


Beige Is The New Leather

by flannelfeelings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Castiel, Bisexual Castiel, Bottom Dean, Character Development, Dean is so awkard, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Gender Dysphoria, I am the worst :), I'm Bad At Tagging, Juvenile Hall, Juvy AU, M/M, Major Character Death (at the very way end), Major Character Injury, Poverty, Protective Castiel, Religious Castiel, Rich Dean, Submissive Dean, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Tough castiel, crimes??, idk I don't want anyone to be triggered by stuff, mentions of drug abuse, non consentual advances, omg I'm a narcissist aren't I, warning bc this shit gets heavy, wow long tag lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't like to think of himself as a criminal.<br/>Of course, he's in a juvenile detention center when he should be in sophomore English, but that doesn't really matter. He's going to serve his time and get the hell out, no strings attached, no marks left.</p><p>That is, until he meets the terrifying boy from the cell across from his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chill of Chains and Empty Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Here's chapter one of a story I just got random inspiration for and cranked out at midnight. Please let me know if you enjoy it and would like it continued :) I have some pretty good plans for it. 
> 
> (And yes, if you're thinking what I'm thinking about the title, you're probably right. Orange certainly IS the new black.)

In a place like this, you’ve gotta keep your poker face on. The shackles only get tighter and the cells only get smaller. The people only get tougher, and the fights get more deadly. Dean has not quite mastered the art of looking unperturbed in this place. After all, it’s his first day. He’s never really believed the stereotypes about juvenile delinquent facilities; until now that is.

Everyone is so full of fear and anger. So much fucking anger in fact, that it surrounds him as he claws his way through hoards of kids in ugly beige jumpsuits making their way to the outside pavillion. They’re all hardened, cold-looking thugs, who radiate belligerence and a challenging demeanor. Dean tries to avoid any threatening movements, the last thing he needs is to get his ass kicked on his first day here. Admittedly he could probably take one or two of them, but he’s new here, and surely if he gets into a fight the familiar faces are going to be the ones getting backup. Besides, he wants to get out of here as soon as possible, get home to his family, not prolong his stay for bad behavior. He may be a criminal, but he’s no fucking idiot. He doesn’t enjoy being behind a metal fence everytime he steps into fresh air.

He crosses the cement of the outdoor pavillion, keeping his head down as he treks quickly towards one of the cheap metal picnic tables by the fence. In only a few short strides a strange, eerie boy who looks maybe seventeen, a year older than Dean, approaches. There are three boys behind him, who look just young enough to be here, but just old enough for it to be wrong.

“Hey there Eyelashes,” says the guy in front. He’s tall and lean with langly limbs and scab marks across his arms. There are purple bruise-like shadows beneath his sunken eyes and his sandy hair is falling out at each corner of his head.

Meth.

Dean ignores his catcalling and continues toward his goal: the tables. Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it that far. Meth Head reaches out and snags his bicep, yanking him backwards a foot.

“Hey there Freckles I’m talkin to you,” the guy coos in the creepiest fucking voice Dean’s ever heard, “Don’t be walkin away from me.”

“What’ll happen if he tries to walk again Al?” one of the dark haired boys with a disturbingly eerie English accent asks menacingly.

Meth Head, or Al, chuckles, “He won’t do shit Crowley.”

“Alastair!” one of the guards leaning against the brick building across the cement shouts, “Let the kid go or you’re gonna be punished!”

Al grumbles angrily and loosens his grip, allowing Dean to jerk free. Dean rubs his upper arm through the thin jumpsuit and narrows his eyes at Al, “Don’t touch me again.”

“What are you gonna do about Pretty Eyes?”

“That ain’t my name you fucker!” Dean snaps, his head and mouth disagreeing on whether or not to cause a confrontation. The guard who’s leaning against the wall doesn’t seem all that interested in the conflict. He’s flipping lazily through a _Cosmopolitan_ magazine, diverting his attention diligently.

“Sorry Eyelashes,” Al murmurs in his raspy, low voice, “what _is_ your name kid?”

“Alastair, back the fuck off the Newbie.” a rough voice interrupts from behind Dean before he can stutter out an answer. He turns his body slightly, getting an eyeful of the guy who’d spoken.

He’s tall, a few inches shorter than Dean, and broad shouldered. His skin is sun kissed, like being in a juvenile detention center hasn’t stopped him from hitting the tanning beds. His cerulean eyes are stark against frown lines that crease his face, and his hair is the color of black coffee. His pouty lips are drawn down in a frown, but there’s something in his eyes that’s much more than the petulant attitude of his stance suggests. Something electric in that cobalt color that makes Dean’s knees turn to jello and every nerve in his body fray to near extinction. It’s not only spine-chilling and sinister, it’s fucking beautiful. The combination of terror and awe that bubbles up inside Dean makes him shift uncomfortably on his feet, flustered and frightened.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Al challenges, squaring his twitchy shoulders. His crooked yellow teeth are revealed as his chapped upper lip curls away in a snarl.

“Meth didn’t mess up your _ears_ you insufferable imbecile,” the boy snaps back, raising his chin and bristling like he’s been waiting for this fight all his life, “Leave the fucking Newbie alone.”

“Or what?” Crowley challenges, rolling his eyes, “What’s little Preacher Man gonna do about it?”

In a second the blue-eyed boy has Crowley by the collar and his face inches away from Crowley’s. His pin-straight nose crinkles in a disgusted sneer, “You know what you are Crowley? You’re a piece of fucking trash. And if you and your buddies don’t leave the new kid alone, I’m gonna come into your cell tonight, and I’m gonna give you trash what trash deserve. You get what I’m saying you dumb motherfucker? Do you understand me, _mate_?”

Crowley gulps visibly, shaking his head in a frantic motion, “Y-yes. Yes I understand Castiel.”

Castiel throws him away, causing him to lose his footing and land on his butt, “Don’t fucking say my name. You don’t _deserve_ to have that celestial word on your filthy lips.” he whirls around to face Dean, who’s been staring, shell-shocked, “Newbie, follow me.”

Dean’s head and his body aren’t on the same page again. His legs robotically follow the boy who’d just saved his ass, and he barely has the courage to turn his head slightly and get a look at the ruffled group of boy’s this guy had just intimidated.

“Don’t look at them,” Castiel orders without turning around. Dean’s eyes widen and he whips his head back forward, watching Castiel’s long legs and thick arms as he leads Dean over to the picnic tables he’d originally been seeking out. Castiel plops down on one of the benches and gestures for Dean to follow his example. Dean sits across from him, swallowing hard and staring at him like a doe in the headlights of a Hummer.

“What’re you so spooked about Newbie?” Castiel asks as he clasps his hands together, shuts his eyes, and leans his head over the table.

“W-what are you doing?” Dean stammers, unable to answer Castiel’s question.

The frightening boy pops one eye open and his mouth quirks sideways, “I’m praying.” His eyes close again and his breathing slows to a relaxed, easy pace. Dean can see him mouthing a few unintelligible words, and then he crosses himself with his index and middle finger before looking back at Dean.

“You’re religious?” Dean blurts out stupidly. It’s clearly obvious; there’s a glimmering gold cross hanging around his neck, he was just praying right in front of Dean, even his _name_ is holy.

“Dad’s a pastor. I prefer to call myself spiritual, but religious works just as well. What about you?”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat, not daring to disagree with _this_ scary-as-fuck kid, “Uh y-yeah. Church every Sunday.”

Dean has never been to church in his life.

Castiel chuckles dryly, “Not a believer? Don’t lie to me.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

This time the blue-eyed boy’s laugh is loud and shameless, “I’m not going to kill you Newbie. You don’t have to believe what I believe.”

Dean gnaws on his lip, “You don’t uh...seem the religious type.”

“Because I’m in juvie or because every other word out of my mouth is a cuss?”

“Both I guess?”

“Well Newbie, as far as crimes go, religion is never excluded. Acts of terrorism are heavily influenced by religion. Not to say I’m a terrorist, but I’d like to refute your point by saying religion and crime are not mutually exclusive. And as far as my...personality goes,” he shrugs, “I don’t think God would mind me saving you from getting your sorry little ass beat by a bunch of druggies. No matter the tactic.”

“Well, either way, thanks.”

Castiel is about to reply, when one of the guards shouts, “Alright inmates! Back to your cells until dinner! Let’s go let’s go!”

Castiel rises from his seat and says, “I’ll see you later Newbie. Have a good first night.”

Dean’s still trying to come up with a coherent answer by the time Castiel is gone.

**

To abstain from his seemingless need to complain about everything, wouldn’t be in Benny’s nature. Or at least, Dean thinks so. He’s known the guy all of three hours and he’s already had it up to here with the guy’s annoying complaints. Okay sure, his voice is pretty interesting -one of those southern Cajun drawls that have often made Dean drool- but that doesn’t mean the words it’s coating are any less obnoxious.

“Whaddya think brother?” Benny asks as he leans over the top bunk to peek at Dean, “You like it here yet?”

Dean scowls sorely, “It’s not exactly the Hilton.”

Benny’s face contorts into legitimate confusion for a second, and Dean wonders if the guy even knows what the Hilton is. He doesn’t know this kid’s background, he could be poor as dirt. Maybe he’s never even been to a hotel. If Dean gets saddled with a roomie who’s not seen shit outside of his small town and asks endless questions about big city live, he cannot be accountable for his actions.

“Uh...yeah,” Benny says after a second, “Anyway, the food’s not horrible. Better than food at a shelter really, and you know you’re always gonna get it. That’s kind of nice. You always know where your next meal is coming from. Where are you from brother?”

Dean wants to strangle this blue-eyed southern menace, but he can’t help but feel for the kid. He can’t be more than 15, and he’s managing to keep up a disturbingly positive demeanor, despite the unsettling things coming out of his mouth.

“I’m from Kansas City,” Dean responds, “You?”

“Oh I bet it’s nice up there. I’ve lived in lots of different places. Down south mostly, lived in Virginia for a while. But I got sent here while I was livin’ in Kansas. You got family?”

“Duh, everyone’s got a family,” Dean rolls his eyes, “Got a mom, dad and brother in the city. They’re gonna come visit this weekend.”

Benny’s expression is something in between melancholy and bittersweet. His broad lips pull up in a weak attempt at a smile that looks more like a grimace, “That’s real nice brother.”

Dean wonders if Benny likes the nickname _‘brother’_ so much, because he’s never had one himself.

Maybe he was wrong to say everyone has a family.

**

Dinner begins and ends swiftly. Benny follows Dean to and from like a lost little puppy who broke out of it’s muzzle. Dean allows him to ramble on as they sit down at one of the cheap, dirty tables provided in the dining area. On his tray is a ham sandwich, a juice box, and a sliced apple.

“Man what is this?” he demands, poking at the food with disdain, “this ain’t food.”

Benny shrugs as he bites into his sandwich, “Tastes like food to me.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but does Benny the courtesy of turning sideways to the southern boy doesn’t see it. Unfortunately though, when he turns his head, he sees Castiel standing across the cafeteria. But he’s not alone. The raven-haired boy is pushing another boy up against a wall, forearm pressing hard into the other boy’s neck, although neither of them seem to be unwilling. At first Dean had thought they were fighting, but as he squints and tilts his head, he sees that Castiel has lips mashed hard against the other boy’s, and his thick hand is stroking down the side of the blonde guy’s thigh.

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean whispers out loud unintentionally.

Benny follows his gaze and nods, “That’s Castiel Novak. Seen him around?”

“Kinda,” Dean manages, “Who’s the other guy?”

He isn’t sure why he’s so surprised, or unsettling at the sight of Castiel with a boy. Dean’s no homophobe, but he didn’t exactly expect Castiel to be uh...playing for that team. And so...passionately.

A weird sensation courses through his body and an unexplainable feeling knocks into his head at the thought of Castiel and some guy. He shakes his head and blinks away the weird thoughts, turning to Benny as the younger boy answers, “I dunno, some random guy. Probably don’t even know each other. Castiel is a notorious slut here. You find a straight guy that he can’t charm into bed, and I’ll buy you a gold medal.”

Dean bites his lower lip until he tastes blood, “Has he charmed you?”

Benny laughs, “Nah. He’s not into guys like me. He likes them…”he pauses for a second before responding, “ _feeble_.”

Dean swallows hard and averts his eyes, trying to focus on the bland food and not the sight of Castiel shoving his tongue roughly into a stranger’s mouth. He listens to Benny talk for the rest of the meal, trying to drone out his own jumbled thoughts and unwanted confusions.

It’s going to be a long first night.


	2. Klepto-Nympho-Maniac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: (mentions of rape -which I do NOT think is a subject to be taken lightly, despite the attitudes of fictional characters in here. Mentions of past abuse in the form of an injury. um and general mature content. Please only read what you're comfortable with!)
> 
> Also I'd like to add, I'm definitely taking a TON of artistic liberties with the way this juvenile hall and justice system is run. I'm fairly certain it's nothing like this in real life, so don't expect that to be too realistic. For the sake of storytelling, this is like the chillest juvenile hall ever lol.
> 
> Sorry I'm rambling, please enjoy and let me know what you think. Thank you!

Dean’s always been this way. He knows it, his family knows it, his friends know it. He’s always going to be this way, there’s no denying that. There’s something wrong with him of course, and no amount of therapists that John and Mary Winchester overpaid to tell Dean what he already knew, could figure out why he is who he is.

Truthfully, Dean doesn’t steal to fill a void, or because he feels like crushing an establishment, or even just because he wants new things.

Dean steals because he fucking loves it.

The rush of snatching something off a shelf, hearing a clerk or a manager screaming at him as he sprints as fast as he can. Running so hard, so damn frantically that he can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The burn in his throat as he laughs giddily, clutching whatever stupid trinket he stole to his chest. The fucking freedom of wind whipping his face and the freeing screams that he lets loose as his heels burn from running and his lungs beg him to stop. The excited adrenaline of watching his teachers fumble through their bags, looking for a missing cell phone or wallet.

Dean almost never _keeps_ he things he steals. When he steals money, it goes to charity. When he steals electronics and clothing, he donates them to the Salvation Army. When he steals things from his doctor, it goes to any Red Cross charity organization that he can find. It’s not that he steals for the sole purpose of donating, he’s got a ton of money, his family donates already. As already said, Dean loves to fucking steal because it’s _fun_. And yeah, if a deserving charity gets a little something from the hot merchandise he snags, maybe that helps ease his conscience a little. But he’s no martyr, stealing is never legal, especially stealing a 2010 Prius and crashing it into your principal’s garage.

Which is why he wakes up to a shrill scream from one of the guards in the _Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall_. His back is sore as hell, and his entire body aches from the uncomfortable twin bed he’d slept on last night. He rolls out of bed to find Benny already dressed and showered, fixing his beige jumpsuit up around his skinny shoulders. The outfit looks absolutely ridiculous on the scrawny kid, but Dean has to admit, he does look more tough than his personality would suggest.

“What time is it?” Dean manages, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes and yawning.

Benny laughs, “It’s 5:30 brother. Don’t act like you’ve never been up before sunrise.”

“We’re in minimum security juvie,” Dean argues, “Why the hell do we have to get up so early?”

“You don’t have to,” Benny says, “but if you wanna get into the rec center, you can’t sit alone in the cell all day. They lock the cells after 6:30 until it’s time to go back. If I were you, I’d get dressed quickly brother.”

Dean sighs as he watches Benny shuffle out of the call, walking down a heavily guarded hall towards the rec center. He grabs the flip-flops and toothbrush he’d gotten at commissary, a towel, and his jumpsuit before padding down the hall towards the communal bathrooms. There are still a few guys in there showering up or using the bathroom, but only a handful. He should be able to mostly shower in peace. He passes three occupied shower stalls, and two very pouty looking guards, and finds himself at the stall furthest away from the rest. Hesitantly, he strips down into the nude and starts up the shower.

He’s briefly reminded of an afternoon in the boy’s locker room after football practice last season. It was his first time showering in front of anyone, his teammate Ricky. He’d been nervous at first, until Ricky put his slick hands on Dean’s waist and Dean let him shove two fingers in his ass. Of course as soon as Dean came from that unfamiliar sensation, he’d pushed Ricky off, grabbed his clothes, and spread the rumor that Ricky had tried to get with him. As he ran out of the shower, he kind of felt like he did after stealing. Ricky was the angry clerk, and Dean’s cum-stained legs were something shameful that he had to carry with him as he sprinted away.

He shivers and pushes that thought away, focusing on meticulously scrubbing his freckled skin. He washes his face with a bar of soap and sets about brushing his teeth, trying to do so speedily so he doesn’t miss the cut-off for recreational time.

“Wow look at you Newbie,” a familiar, raspy voice says from behind him. Dean whirls on his heel at the sudden sound, slipping on his bar of soap and knocking his bare body against the side of the shower stall. Castiel stands before him, nude, with a towel slung over his shoulder and a bag of toiletries in his hand. He looks amused at Dean’s flustered behavior as Dean covers himself with his hands, face burning crimson.

Dean can’t help himself; he has a quick moment to take Castiel in. Tall and broad shouldered, with tanned skin and muscled arms that shape his torso. A brilliant white smile and dazzling azure eyes that peek out from his sleep-mussed dark hair. Although his face is youthful, probably no older than 17, he carries himself with the confidence and allure of any adult Dean’s ever met. Dean’s scrutiny finds him staring wildly at a peculiar scar on Castiel’s abdomen. It runs from his belly button up the side of his stomach and cuts off just below his right pectoral. It looks like a knife carving that teters off into a awful white burn.

“Getting an eyeful?” Castiel teases confidently.

“What are you doing!?” Dean demands, breaking out of his weird stupor, stumbling backwards as Castiel puts a hand on his hip expectantly.

“Making conversation,” Castiel grins as he steps into the stall beside Dean and starts up the water, “how was your first night? Anybody give you any trouble?”

“N-No,” he manages, taking a deep breath now that Castiel’s dick is out of sight. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to see though...not that Dean was gay or anything, but he could appreciate when a guy had it going on down there.

“Really?” Castiel sounds slightly surprised, “Face like yours? _Body_ like yours and nobody tried anything? What’s wrong with you then?”

“What are you suggesting?” Dean chokes out, “Are you asking me if someone tried to _rape_ me?”

Castiel snorts, “Well when you put it that way it doesn’t sound as sexy.”

“Rape is not sexy! And nobody raped me!”

“I guess that’s good. But c’mon,” Castiel leans over the top of the separating wall in the shower and smiles at Dean, raven hair plastered against his forehead, “Are you saying you’d _resist_  the sexual advances?”

“From guys? Yeah.”

Castiel tilts his head sideways and ponders this for a moment before saying, “I think you’re lying.”

“Excuse me?” Dean argues, “Look dude whatever you’re into is fine but-”

“Oh I’m into everything,” Castiel interrupts as he continues to scrub his body clean, “You name it I love it.”

Dean grumbles under his breath, “I’m sure.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just, look, can you not talk to me while we shower?”

“You know I never got your name,” Castiel ignores Dean’s request as he continues to shower, “I’m guessing it’s not Newbie.”

Dean sighs, “It doesn’t matter.”

“I told you mine you know.”

“Yeah I know Cas but it’s ju-”

“What did you just say?” Castiel has stopped showering completely, and he’s looking at Dean with the widest cobalt gaze ever. Shampoo suds drizzle down the sides of his face from his thick hair, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Dean swallows, “I’m sorry.” he says immediately, terrified of Castiel’s unreadable expression, “It was just easier than Castiel. I didn’t mean to...I dunno, disrespect the name or anything.”

Cas stares at him a bit longer, seeming almost disbelieving. Then, he snaps out of it and blinks rapidly, “No..no it’s fine. Just...nobody’s called me that in a long time.” he swallows hard and shakes his head once, “Anyway, we were talking about you, not me. What’s the name there Newbie?”

“Uh I’m Dean.”

“Dean.” Cas grins as he finishes rinsing his hair and shuts off the water, shaking his head like a wet dog. He ties a towel loosely around his waist and pads out of the stall towards the exit, stopping once to say to Dean, “By the way, those freckles on your thighs? Very cute."

He exits the bathroom like that interaction had been perfectly normal.

Dean falls against the shower wall once more, sucking in a deep breath and wondering how the hell this stranger has him, on more than one occasion, so confused and flustered.

**

Dean steps into the recreation hall, looking around desperately for a familiar face that is anyone but Castiel. He sees Benny and some other guy across the room playing cards, but they seem occupied so he doesn’t want to interject and take Benny from the game. Instead, he just heads towards one of the couches and people-watches. There are a few card games happening, a group of guys watching a battered VHS tape of _Flubber_ , and several just sitting around boredly talking. Dean sits silently, half-heartedly glancing at the movie every so often. He isn’t sure why he let Benny convince him to come to rec time. He’d been planning to just stay in the cell for the duration of his 18 month stay, with the exception of Saturday’s when his family comes to visit. He sighs, two more days and then he can see them. He just needs to survive two more days of this.

Honestly, he’d thought juvie would be more...exciting.

**

Breakfast passes lamely, and Dean listens to Benny talk loudly for an hour. Benny introduces him to a few new people, some guy named Garth -who’s really weird and uses a sock puppet to communicate- and this guy named Kevin. Neither of them are particularly interesting, save Garth’s inability to speak without the squeaky voice of _Mr. Fizzles_ , and Dean finds himself actually hoping to see Castiel.

He finishes his bland eggs and departs his tray, heading back with the lull of teenage prisoners back to the outside pavillion. This time when he heads towards the picnic bench, Alastair and his douchey friends don’t say anything, but Al eyes him like Dean’s a freshly butchered steak. That’s not good. Dean plops down at the table, turning his back and avoiding the hole-burning stares of Al and Crowley, before he once again hears Castiel speak from behind him, “Don’t worry about them. They won’t mess with you as long as I’m here.”

“Well then you better stay,” Dean mumbles, as Cas sits across from him, “Cause I don’t need to get my ass pummeled on my second day here.”

Cas laughs, “Don’t worry Newbie, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You know, I told you my name.”

“Yes, Dean. Fits you pretty well I guess, but Newbie is so much more you.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Alright Cas, whatever.”

Once again upon hearing the nickname, Cas startles for a moment, but quickly regains his composure, “I suppose I could do worse in terms of new friends though.”

Dean chuckles dryly, “I suppose you could.”

Cas tilts his head to the side curiously again and says, “So Dean, how long is your stay here at _Casa De Jumpsuit?_ ”

Dean snorts, “Got 18 months. How about you?”

Castiel grimaces, “Ten years.”

Dean pales, “ _Ten years_? How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“How old were you when you got here?”

“Thirteen.”

Dean suppresses the gasp that’s making it’s way up his throat. Castiel has been here _four_ years. Dean barely survived one day.

“But when you turn 18 you’re going to have to-”

“Real prison,” Cas interjects, “I know.”

Dean stares at him, “What the _hell_ did you do?”

Castiel gnaws on his lower lip for a moment before replying, “What do you think gets you ten years?”

Dean swallows hard at the expression on Cas’ face. His steely blue eyes are hard and guarded, a warning look plastered across his face. Dean fidgets under the darkening expression on Castiel’s face, and changes the subject quickly.

“Don’t know what anyone could do to deserve the food here,” he mutters weakly.

Luckily, Castiel picks up the conversation shift with ease, “True. I bet the cook here was hired to punish us personally.”

Dean laughs nervously and they endure the rest of the conversation with light, meaningless chat that makes him feel sick to his stomach.

The entire time he talks to Cas about the basketball game happening tomorrow, he can’t help but catch that cerulean gaze and wonder who the hell Castiel Novak is.


	3. Only Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic description of violence and injuries and blood and all that yucky stuff!
> 
> Here's chapter 3, sorry I'm uploading it so soon. I just am getting more into this fic than I expected!  
> Thanks for commenting and kudos and stuff, means a lot to me!
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think :)
> 
> (ALSO: if anyone is triggered by something I didn't tag PLEASE tell me, no matter how unusual it is. I don't want anyone getting triggered to do something bad because of this. You can comment possible triggers here or message my Tumblr -Boopernatural- if you want to let me know. Just wanted to make this clear, if you're feeling uncomfortable or unsafe because I didn't properly warn please let me know!)

On Dean’s third day, he doesn’t see Cas in the showers. He eats breakfast and lunch with Benny, Garth and Kevin. He sits lazily in the rec room and watches Flubber again. He still doesn’t see Cas. By the time it’s time for outside rec time his skin is itching and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably. He isn’t sure why Castiel’s presence, or lack thereof, has such a stark effect on him. He exits the building, and pauses, scanning the crowd of jumpsuits. He doesn’t see those cobalt eyes anywhere.

He turns to Benny, who’s just about to join a basketball game, and asks, “Hey, do you know where Castiel is?”

Benny glances around and shrugs, “Probably had an appeal hearing.”

“A what?”

Kevin butts in, “An appeal hearing? It’s this thing they give the kids who have long sentences. Once every year they go to this courtroom and plead their case. Maybe with new evidence or just a chance to beg.”

Dean arches an eyebrow, “You seem smart.”

“I’m in-” he pauses and looks down sadly, “I _was_ in advanced placement.”

“How’d you end up here?” Dean asks nervously.

Benny cuts off Kevin’s reply, “Don’t ask that here brother. Haven’t you ever seen a movie? You don’t ask a guy why he’s locked up.”

“It’s fine,” Kevin interrupts, “I vandalized the schools librarian for banning _Catcher In The Rye_.”

Dean stares at him in disbelief, and Kevin defends himself, “What? That book is a classic and it’s a disgusting insult to any true fans of literature to have such art banned for brief vulgarity. They can’t handle reality.”

Benny laughs loudly and coos, “Way to live up to the Asian stereotype Kev.”

Kevin snorts, “I hate southerners.”

Garth -er, Mr. Fizzles- decides to chime in now, “Wanna know what I did?”

“No,” Benny and Kevin hiss at the same time, before jogging to join the basketball game and gesturing for Dean to follow. Dean hangs back, stuffing his hands nervously in his pockets as he watches Garth trail behind. He’s not in the mood for basketball; he just wants to see Cas. Make sure he’s okay. He walks boredly around the pavillion, watching hordes of misbehaved teenagers messing around and shouting. It’s all very droll. He ends up back at his and Castiel’s table, thinking about the other boy. He wonders if Cas really is at an appeal hearing. He wonders how it’s going; hopefully well. The last thing he needs on his hands is an even _more_ moody and angsty Castiel.

He shudders at the thought of that, but then he thinks he’d prefer a moody Cas to no Cas at all.

He’s just about to ask himself when the hell he got so affectionate for his weird, criminal bodyguard, when he hears a voice behind him, “Hey there Eyelashes, where’s your boyfriend?”

He twists sideways and springs to his feet in alarm as he stands face-to-face with Alastair, Crowley, and their posse.

“He ain’t my boyfriend,” Dean snarls, squaring his shoulders and trying to seem more intimidating than he really is. Dean may have them by a few inches when it comes to height -he’s already a staggering 6’1, even taller than Castiel- but years of sprinting whenever he got the chance and not being interested in fast food has left him with a lean, thin body that will do nothing for him in a fight. Al and Crowley both look like they’ve been heavyweight champions since preschool, which doesn’t make him feel too great about facing them head on. Alone. Cas is supposed to be here. He said he’s not going anywhere.

But he’s gone, and Dean is staring stupidly at these very angry juveniles, who look ready to turn his ass into dog food. 

”Yeah whatever Eyelashes,” Al rolls his eyes and moves forward. Dean stumbles back, his ass hitting the table as he grabs the side of it for support.

 _Now would be a good time to swoop in and save me Cas_ , he thinks fearfully.

“Doesn’t matter where he is,” Crowley snaps, “He’s not here. Castiel is gone for now.”

“Don’t say his name,” Dean manages, because he knows if Cas was here he’d break Crowley’s teeth for doing that.

“ _You’re_ not in charge here,” Al growls, hands clenching into fists, “And we’re not too happy with the way you ducked out of initiation the other day.”

“There are guards everywhere,” Dean says, attempting what he hopes is a logical appeal as to why his face doesn’t need rearranging, “You’re going to get in huge trouble if they see this.”

Al barks out a bitter laugh and points around him, “You see those three guards? One of them is reading a magazine, one is smoking a cigarette, and the other? You think that fat fuck is gonna stop eating his lunch to break up a tussle between two worthless delinquents?”

Much to his dismay, Al’s argument makes a bit more sense than Dean’s.

“See Freckles? You just don’t get it.” Al shakes his head and takes another step closer to Dean, who’s pinned against the table and motionless, “That’s why we gotta teach you. You really think you matter in here? You think you matter _anywhere_? No. You’re just one troubled teen in a fucking world of them. You’re naive and stupid, so we gotta teach you. Nothing personal Eyelashes,” Al flashes him a disgusting yellow smile and murmurs, “I really do hate to mess up such a pretty face.”

“Please?” Dean croaks as Alastair shoots a hand out and grabs a fistful of Dean’s collar, “Please don’t.”

“Aw, little guy is begging.” Crowley coos, “Al can I hit him first?”

“No!”

“Yes,” Alastair corrects Dean’s frantic plea, “Go ahead.”

Crowley chuckles and cracks one of his knuckles before approaching. The first time he hits Dean, Dean cries out. The second time, Dean groans out an angry cuss. The third time, he begs him to stop.

The fourth time, he calls out to Cas.

“What was that Freckles?” Crowley demands, running a bloodstained fist teasingly down Dean’s split lower lip, “You want your Preacher Man?”

Dean looks away, hoping his black eye is swollen shut too tightly for him to see the wetness of it.

“C’mon Eyelashes,” Al says as he grabs the back of Dean’s neck and drags him down to the pavement, squishing his cheek against cement, “You ain’t ever been in a fight before?”

Dean ignores him, biting his tongue so hard he tastes blood mingling from that and the cut in his lip. He can no longer see out of his right eye, and the side of his head is throbbing from the force of Alastair’s disgusting shoe pressing it into the ground.

“Fuck you!” Al shouts, rearing back and planting a forceful kick straight into Dean’s ribs. Dean gasps, coughing desperately as he sucks in some much needed air and clutches at the agony in his stomach.

“Fucking pussy can’t take a hit,” Crowley snorts as he offers another generous kick to Dean’s knee, which makes a _pop!_ noise but only hurts for a second.

“Hey, you idjits get off him!” the gruff voice of the cigarette-smoking security guard yells from a few feet away. Dean can barely see, his vision altered and blurred by his injuries, but he halfway spots a scraggly brown beard and a name tag that reads “ _Robert Singer.”_

“Get the fuck away before I send your asses to solitude!” Singer shouts, sending the boys scattering with mumbled apologies. Once they’re gone, the guard looks down to Dean and says, “Get up boy.”

“I can’t,” Dean croaks, still hugging his arm around his stomach in pain.

The guard rolls his eyes and says, “I walked ten miles back to base with a slugger in my leg during Vietnam, you can stand the fuck up after gettin’ a little scraped up. Now c’mon boy before I lose my patience and make you do jumping jacks.”

Slowly, Dean makes the painful ascent and shakily rises to his feet, coughing and wheezing as the intense pain in his ribs protests. The guard looks him up and down and says, “You don’t look all that bad. Head to the bathrooms and get your face cleaned up. Dinner starts in an hour.” Dean stares at the man, who stares right back, “Well what is it idjit? Cat got your tongue?”

“N-no sir,” Dean manages weakly, “Sorry.”

“Call me Bobby kid. Now get cleaned up and I’ll take care of those punks.”

“Thank you Bobby.”

“You’re pushin it, now go!”

Dean turns away from him and pushes through the other kids, who seem utterly unperturbed at the sight of a bloody, beaten kid and a group of jackasses who have no trouble bludgeoning perfect strangers. He swallows hard and grimaces as he tastes blood go down his throat, arriving at the bathrooms and limping on his injured knee. He’s not sure what happened there, but each movement sends a sharp zing of pain dancing up his leg. He makes his way to one of the sinks and turns the cold water on full blast, splashing his face with it a few times before looking in the mirror.

Dean looks rough.

One of his viridescent eyes is black and purple around the lid and under it. It’s swollen and hard to see out of, but not so much that it requires serious medical attention. His lower lip is split pretty bad, and still bleeding, so he takes extra care washing and rinsing it. There’s a long, jagged cut high on his cheekbone under his black eye, it’s not too deep seeing as Crowley’s class ring -probably belonging to a family member, since he’s not yet 18- caused it. He unbuttons his jumpsuit and lifts the white t-shirt underneath to reveal two fist-sized, dark bruises coloring his side over his ribs. He washes his face thoroughly and takes a little time to spread some cool water over his ribs, although it hurts like hell and has him grinding his teeth so hard he can hear it. Then, he closes up his jumpsuit, scrubs away the blood that’s collecting on his neck and collar, and checks himself over. He looks a little better, now that the corners of his injuries are clear-cut and not meshed together with blood. But it’s still inherently obvious that someone with serious anger issues kicked his ass ruthlessly.

Sighing softly, he exits the bathroom, getting used to the ache in his leg and limping a little less. Dinner has already started, and he spots Benny, Garth and Kevin eating already. He moves towards them, but when he reaches their table, Kevin stops him, “Maybe you shouldn’t sit with us tonight Dean.”

Dean pauses, startled, “Huh?”

“It’s not you brother…” Benny insists, glancing behind Dean at the table Al and Crowley are occupying, “We just don’t...uh...want to get on their bad side.”

Dean is about to speak, when a voice from behind him demands, “Would you prefer to be on _my_ bad side?”

Dean turns around and his breath catches as he comes face-to-face with Castiel. “Cas,” he breathes, “you’re here.”

Cas looks away from Benny and his challenging expression melts into one of shock and disbelief, “Newbie what the hell happened to your face!?” he grabs Dean’s chin in one hand and examines Dean’s injuries like he’s some kind of expert.

“I’m fine,” Dean lies, pushing him gently away, although he’s flattered at the concern.

“Alastair,” Cas snarls, his brilliant azure eyes darkening menacingly as the name exits his broad lips.

“Man it’s fine,” Dean says, grabbing Castiel’s arm as he turns for Al’s table, “Cas don’t! Hey, look it’s fine! Don’t do anything to get yourself in more trouble! Cas, hey look at me!”

Cas turns slightly, his lip curled up like a feral animal, “He hurt you.”

“I’m okay. Really, look I’m fine man it doesn’t even hurt. It’s whatever. Tell me about your day, let’s sit down.”

It’s not so much that Dean doesn’t want Cas to hurt Alastair… it’s more than he’s afraid of seeing what _Cas_ is capable of.

Cas sighs and allows his shoulders to relax as he throws an arm around Dean -who doesn’t protest because he’s just relieved that Cas isn’t murdering anyone- and leads him to an empty table. They sit across from each other, while Cas just stares silently at Dean with that stupid unreadable expression that drives Dean insane.

“You gotta say something,” Dean murmurs nervously.

Cas sighs, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s not your job to be.”

“But look at you. God that looks awful Dean.”

“Tell me about your day Cas. Did you have an appeal hearing?”

“Yeah I did. How’d you know?”

“Kevin told me. How’d it go?”

Cas shrugs, rolling his eyes nonchalantly, “Same as it always does I’m sure. Do you want some food?”

Dean shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. His stomach is killing him since the nasty bruises Al left on his ribs, and he doesn’t think putting food between his split lips would feel too great anyway, “Not hungry.”

“You sure?”

“Why are you so...protective?”

Cas laughs, “Cause Newbie, it looks like if _I_ don’t protect you, no one will.”

Dean runs a tentative finger across his lip and winces, “I guess I appreciate it, despite the abnormality of it.”

Cas shrugs, “Abnormality is my specialty.” he glances over his shoulder at Benny, “Guess you haven’t exactly made the best friends here.”

“Who knew they’d ditch me as soon as Al declared his dislike for me?”

Cas chuckles, “I did. Want me to sleep in your cell tonight?”

Dean cocks an eyebrow dubiously, “Are you coming on to me? Is that what this is?”

Castiel snorts jokingly, “Trust me Newbie, you’d _know_ if I was coming on to you.”

Dean blushes, finding a sudden interest in the floor, “It doesn’t matter anyway, you can’t just switch ce-”

“Hey Benjamin!” Castiel calls to Benny, who’s been avoiding both his and Dean’s stare this whole time.

“Yeah brother?”

“We’re switching cells!”

“Alright.”

Cas turns back to Dean, “Peachy?”

“You can’t do that Cas. They’re gonna notice you’re not-”

“They don’t care who the fuck is in that bed as long as their count is high enough.” Cas argues, “We’re not individuals here Newbie, we’re _statistics._ ”

Dean swallows hard, trying not to compare Castiel’s words to Al telling him he doesn’t matter.

“Well…” Dean manages, “If you think it’s a good idea for us to share a cell I guess I don’t have a problem with it.”

Cas grins, “Knew you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, you’re going to _love_ sleeping with me.”

Dean fidgets, and hopes for both of their sakes that Castiel intends to _sleep,_ and do nothing more.


	4. Appearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man...I totally loved writing this chapter. My anti-depressants have seriously started helping me get a little more motivated to actually do a good job with my writing, so I hope this is enjoyable!
> 
> Thank you all for the great and constructive comments! Really makes my day so much better! I love you all muah!
> 
> Please enjoy :) 
> 
> (Also, you should listen to Porcelain, by Red Hot Chili Peppers if you haven't heard it. Might give you some insight on what goes through Castiel's mind.)

The first night with Castiel is tense, to say the least. The entire night he whispers to Dean in the dark, asking him questions about himself and some are so personal that they make Dean glad his blush isn’t visible in the pitch black shade of their cell.

“So what did you do to get in?” Cas rasps quietly, leaning down to look at Dean from the top bunk.

Dean sighs and rolls on his side, gritting his teeth when his ribs scream in agony; he probably cracked a few, “Benny said you’re not supposed to ask that.”

“Benny is an idiot street kid who’s probably in here for holding up a convenience store,” Cas grumbles, “Don’t listen to that jerk.”

Dean bites his lip and winces, tasting blood, “I steal.”

“You steal?”

“I steal.”

There’s a pause, “Well what do you steal?”

“Um, anything.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll steal anything.”

“That doesn’t make any sense Newbie. People steal when they don’t have shit.”

Dean huffs out his breath and returns to lying on his back, which is a little easier on his ribs, “I don’t steal out of necessity.”

Cas’ brows pull down, “So what? You steal for _fun_?”

“Don’t act like such a martyr,” Dean grumbles brazenly, “You’re in here too.”

Cas sighs and licks his lips, “I dunno Newbie, seems kinda ridiculous that you’d get yourself locked up _just because_. There’s gotta be something more.”

“It’s thrilling Cas, I don’t know.”

“So, it’s the adrenaline?”

Dean shrugs, “I guess so.”

“What, are you dead inside or something?”

“Damn Castiel what kind of question is that!”

“What? I find that to be a perfectly innocent question.”

“No I’m not _dead inside,_  what the hell?”

“Well I don’t know Newbie your behavior would suggest otherwise.”

“Are _you_ dead inside?”

Cas grins and chuckles softly, “Yup.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow up, “Oh really? You’re dead inside?”

“Duh.”

“Why do you say that Castiel?”

“Oh c’mon,” Cas rolls his eyes and flops off the side of the top bunk, landing neatly on his heels and sitting beside Dean’s cot so they’re face-to-face, “Everybody in here is dead. You will be too.”

Dean frowns and turns to face Cas, “No I won’t be. I only have 18 months. Then, I’ll be back to my family Cas.”

Cas smiles and trails his tongue along the length of his lower lip. Dean finds himself watching the movement with unrelenting attention. The way those broad, plump lips part over his surprisingly white teeth, and his long, smooth tongue runs across the soft flesh of his mouth...Dean’s not sure why he’s got chills on his arms.

He blinks rapidly as Cas responds, “Newbie, by the time you’re out of here, your family won’t even know who you are.”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I’m tired Cas.”

Castiel nods once and climbs back up to his bunk, “Night Newbie.”

“Wish you’d call me by my name dude.”

Cas chuckles softly, “When pigs fly Newbie, when pigs fly.”

**

Dean awakens to the sound of singing.

For a moment, he thinks he’s back home. His mom used to sing every morning; she sang while she cooked, she sang while she cleaned, she sang while she worked. Mary was always singing. She'd sing The Beatles or Queen to soothe Dean or get him excited. She had a lovely voice, the kind that made Dean's heart warm and his eyes watery.

But it’s not his mom this time, it’s Castiel. Cas is pulling on his jumpsuit and fixing his hair, singing in a low, off-key voice. Dean pauses for a moment before recognizing the song.

“You like _Red Hot Chili Peppers_ ,” Dean says as he sits up.

Cas startles a little, and for the first time Dean sees him looking unprepared and embarrassed, as opposed to his usual confident demeanor.

He chuckles nervously and scratches his neck, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Nah, I like that song.” Dean assures him and whistles the tune of _Porcelain_ quietly.

“Me and that song have been through quite a lot,” Cas mumbles tentatively.

Dean tilts his head with interest, “What do you mean?”

He sighs and shrugs, finishing the final button on his jumpsuit, “Doesn’t matter. Your family coming today?”

Dean nods as he tentatively gets out of bed, gasping a little as his ribs and face ache from the beating he took yesterday. He quickly pulls his pj shirt up to run his fingers along the dark bruises that seem to have gotten worse over the night, groaning.

“Damn Newbie,” Cas says, staring at Dean’s ribs with wide eyes, “That looks fucking nasty.”

“Thanks.” Dean mutters, rubbing his side and cringing, “Who knew prison sneakers could do damage like this.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah it hurts.”

Cas is about to respond, when a guard passes the cell, shouting, “Winchester, Novak! You’ve both got visitors, get the hell up and get moving!”

“You overslept a little,” Cas explains as Dean scrambles to his small dresser and yanks out a fresh jumpsuit.

“I don’t even have time to brush my teeth.” Dean complains, shimmying sloppily into his outfit.

“Here,” Cas perks up, reaching under his pillow and digging around in his sheets for a moment before producing an apple, “Natural breath freshener.”

Dean catches the fruit as Cas’ tosses it to him, and examines it closely, “Where’d you get this?”

“I always keep food after meals,” the blue-eyed boy shrugs, “I’ve got low blood sugar. C’mon, families are waiting.”

Dean follows Cas into the hall and crunches into the apple as a guard locks their cell door behind them. They walk down the corridors and Cas chats with him lightly. Dean half pays attention to what he’s saying, getting excited to see his family. They pass the rec room, where several inmates are still seated dejectedly. None of them are playing games or goofing off, they seem...reserved and well behaved. Benny and Garth are sitting on a couch, but neither are speaking to each other. Endless pairs of dead teenage eyes lock hopelessly on yet _another_ showing of _Flubber_.

“What’s up with them?” Dean mumbles to Cas as he tosses the apple core in a nearby waste bin.

Cas glances over his shoulder as they pass the rec room, “Always like that on visiting day. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a family to visit them Newbie.”

“Oh...well how about you? What’s your family like?” Dean figures since they’re coming to visit, they can’t be all that bad. Especially since whatever Cas did to get ten years has to be pretty extreme.

Cas’ jaw clenches up tight as he and Dean enter the visiting room, “They’re shit Newbie. Look, I think I see your family.”

“How can you tell?” Dean demands, scanning the room for a familiar face.

He looks back at Cas, who’s grinning, “you look just like your mom.”

Dean follows Castiel’s gaze until his green eyes land on the family sitting at the table nearest the back. His breath catches as his eyes settle on his mother’s face. Completely forgetting the existence of his bodyguard/roommate, Dean jerks into a sprint and meets his mom halfway, their bodies colliding in a painful, yet worth-it, embrace.

“Mom,” he manages, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that somehow always surrounds his mother. He feels like crying; he regrets every time he ever gave her attitude or talked back. He’d never known how much he could miss his mom, even after only three days.

“Dean,” she whispers back, stroking his neck and lacing her fingers through the fine hair on his head, “I don't think we're supposed to touch.”

They pull away and stare at each other for a moment, as if drinking in the sight of one another. Then, she seems to notice the abrasions on her son’s face, “Dean baby what _happened_?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he manages, leaning around her waist, “Sammy!”

He surges towards his little brother, who jumps up with the same effervescence Dean feels. Their bodies knock together harshly, and Dean grips the twelve-year-old with more force than he thought possible.

“Sammy,” he mumbles, “How’re you doin buddy?”

“I miss you,” Sam complains, hugging Dean’s waist tight.

“I miss you too squirt,” Dean pulls away before he starts that ugly snotty crying he’s accustomed to exhibiting after being away from his little brother. They sit down at one of the round plastic tables and face John.

“Hi Dad.” Dean greets the older man formally.

“Son.” John replies in a clipped tone, eyes scanning his son’s face scrutinizingly, “What happened to your face?”

Dean swallows hard, getting up the courage to tell his dad what happened, “I got beat up. It’s fine. They took care of it.”

He isn’t sure if the guards actually took care of it, since Alastair and Crowley had been seemingly unpunished at dinner, but he doesn’t want his family to do something unnecessary. The last thing he needs is the people here thinking he’s some kind of weakling whose mommy jumps in to save him when he gets hurt.

“I hate this place,” Mary mutters, looking around in disdain, “This is the nicest facility they’ve got? Really?”

“Mary please,” John murmurs evenly, “This place is not a reward it’s a punishment.”

“I know that John,” she responds curtly, “But still they could take better care of-”

“Can we not spend Dean’s visit arguing?” Sam cuts in, giving his parents a pointed look and gesturing to the stoic attitude Dean has adopted.

Mary shakes her head as if to clear it and plasters a smile across her face, “So Dean, how are you doing? Have you made any friends?”

Dean purses his lips, he wonders if Benny still counts seeing as he wasn’t interested in Dean after finding out Al didn’t like him. He decides his confusing relationship with Castiel could count as friendship.

“Yeah a few. The kids here can be...rough around the edges.”

“I can imagine,” Sam says, glancing around the room at jumpsuit-clad inmates talking to their families, “They look scary. Are you okay here?”

“Ah don’t worry about me squirt,” Dean smiles as he ruffles his brother’s ridiculously shaggy hair, “I’m gonna be fine. There’s a kid here who...kind of takes care of me.”

“He let that happen to your face,” John grumbles, “Can’t be too good at his job.”

“John,” Mary interjects, giving her husband a warning look.

“No it’s fine mom,” Dean shakes his head, eyeing his dad head-on, “Dad you can think whatever you like. I’m not worried about my safety as long as Castiel is here.”

“Castiel huh?” Mary smiles teasingly at Dean, “That’s a cute name. What’s he like?”

“Who cares if his name is cute?”

“Shut it John I’m talking to my son.”

“He’s fine mom.” Dean ignores his father and tries to focus on his mother and brother, “He’s a little...intimidating. But, I think I can handle him.”

“Well be careful,” John cuts in, “You never know what might happen in a place like this. Young men get lonely...bonds form…things happen that you don't mean to happen.”

Dean wrinkles his nose, “Uh...what are you trying to say?”

“You know what I’m trying to say Dean.”

“Are you telling me not to _fuck_ him?”

“Dean Henry Winchester!” John gasps, face-red, “How dare yo-”

“Like that isn’t what you were saying!” Dean snaps back defensively, “Maybe you shouldn’t have come if you were just here to reprimand me and warn me about the dangers of gay sex!”

“Fine,” John seethes, “Then I won’t come back you spoiled little klepto!”

He rises angrily and grabs Sam’s arm, “C’mon. Let your mom and Dean say goodbye.”

“Bye Sammy, see you soon.” Dean says to his brother as John drags him away.

“Don’t count on that!” John hisses, and he and Sam exit before either sibling can react. Dean turns back to his mom, who’s pinching the bridge of her nose with her index and middle finger.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth and gathers Dean into her arms, “I’m sorry honey. He is so ridiculous sometimes.”

“So leave him,” Dean mutters for the millionth time in his life.

“We’ve had this conversation before Dean,” Mary reminds him, “I love your father. I’ll try to convince him to let me bring Sam next weekend...but don’t expect more than me.”

“I love you.” Dean says, clinging to her blouse.

“Love you too hon. I will see you next Saturday.” she kisses his knuckles, then gently brushes her lips over the bruises on his face, and just as quickly as she’d come, she’s gone.

Sighing at the speediness of that conversations descent, he begins to move towards the exit of the room back into the rec room. He passes Castiel’s table, who barely seems to notice him, engulfed in a discussion with three men who look a little like him.

Curious about _anything_ from Cas’ past, Dean ducks behind one of the vending machines, pleased that he’s thin enough to hide and still be able to see and hear the conversation.

“...not our fault you ended up here Castiel!” one of them is saying defensively.

“I know that Lucifer,” Cas growls back, clenching his fists, “But you couldn’t have _tried_ to convince him to come?”

“Cas, you know how Dad can be,” another one of them murmurs.

Cas seems to stiffen at the nickname, shoulders tensing as something dark crosses his eyes. “Don’t call me that Gabriel,” he snaps, “You have to _earn_ that.”

Dean frowns, what the hell has he done to earn the nickname that Castiel’s family hasn’t?

“Castiel,” the other one interrupts, “We’re your brothers, and we’ll always be here for you, but this is kind of a big request.”

“C’mon Michael,” Cas insists, fists tightening, “I have a chance to get out of here, stop serving time for something I didn’t do! And you won’t even try to help me?”

“Cas if Dad goes to jail we’re all going to be bankrupt,” Gabriel argues, “You took the rap because you’re generous. You agreed to serve ten years when you took the blame.”

“I was _thirteen_! I would’ve done anything for that greedy bastard! But I can’t do it anymore!” Cas hisses back under his breath, teeth grinding together audibly.

“Well you made your decision Cas.” Michael retorts, “And now you’re dealing with the consequences.”

“I can’t fucking believe this! You’d rather see your innocent little brother rot away in prison than your fucking monster of a father put away for something he did? I have a chance to get _out_ and you’re going to throw it away?”

“Watch your language.” Lucifer scolds primly, “This place has turned you into a sacrilegious, vulgar, teenage vagrant.”

“Who’s fucking fault is that?” Castiel challenges furiously.

“We’re leaving now.” Michael tells him, getting up from his seat as the three brothers follow, “See you next weekend.”

They turn and begin walking towards the outside exit, their walking almost synchronized.

"Yeah well...don’t come back!” Castiel shouts after them, “Cause I won’t want to see you!”

Lucifer turns, hand on the door and says, “Fine. We won’t come.”

The door slams behind them. Dean watches with the same sick fascination as someone watching a car wreck would. The room is nearly empty of any inmates or visitors now, only one guard lazily flopped over one of the loveseats in the corner, half paying attention. Castiel stands in the midst of a swarm of empty tables, fuming and frustrated. His head drops into his hands and he lets out one shaky, uncontrolled grunt, before sucking in a deep breath, composing himself, and returning to the rec room with the confident aura he always carries.

Dean thinks he’s just seen the aftermath of Castiel’s unfailing, faux credence in himself.


	5. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: gender dysphoria, self hatred, internalized homophobia/transphobia, transphobic behavior and general mature content. Please please PLEASE don't read anything that might upset you or trigger you! Stay safe! 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think (: 
> 
> Thanks xx

Dean tries his hardest to avoid Castiel after the encounter with his family, but it’s kind of hard to do that while sharing a cell with him. It’s not that he no longer wants to see Cas, it’s just that he’s terrified and confused about what he saw. What had Castiel meant when he said he hadn’t committed the crime? Okay, well obviously he meant he hadn’t committed the crime, but who did? Had he _really_ taken the blame to protect his father?And if so, what the hell is Dean supposed to do? He can’t let Cas rot away in jail for the next six years, but he also can’t just walk up to a guard and say, “ _Hey you see that big scary hardened criminal over there? He’s innocent, it’s really his father, the pastor, who did the bad thing!_ ”

The weekend passes slowly, and on Monday morning, Dean finds himself in the rec room beside Castiel and a bunch of other guys. The morning is calm, droll even. Nothing interesting has happened over the weekend, save Dean’s witnessing of Castiel’s confession of innocence.

“Man I’m so fucking sick of this movie,” one of the guys says. He looks a little familiar, kind of short with curly blonde hair and petite features, “if I have to see Robin Williams and this fucking blob of green shit one more time, I cannot be held accountable for my actions.”

Castiel laughs from his spot on the couch across from the blonde guy, “Jo, there are other VHS tapes behind the TV, we’re all just too fucking lazy to actually change them.”

Jo shrugs lazily, “That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to complain.”

Dean chuckles and returns his attention to the movie. A few more minutes pass uneventfully, and then, Dean hears a familiar voice, “Hey Eyelashes!”

He freezes beside Castiel, body stiffening and going completely rigid. The black eye on his face aches, the split in his lip burns, and his ribs rattle. Alastair approaches the couch, and Dean sees Cas bristle out of his peripheral vision.

“Hey man,” Al says pointedly to Jo, “see what I did to this kid's face?”

“Yeah,” Jo mutters, “Think you’re a real coward too.”

Al wrinkles his nose, “I oughtta do the same to you.”

“Oh Al, you wouldn’t hit a girl.”

“You ain’t no girl, freak.”

Jo’s voice is laced with sarcasm, “Oh gee, I’m wounded.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow up at Jo, frowning, “Wait, what?”

“He thinks he’s a chick,” Al explains coldly.

“ _She_ is a chick,” Castiel snaps, crossing his arms, “She is whatever she fucking says she is Alastair. What do you want?”

“If she’s a chick, why is she here? Hmm?” Al challenges, seemingly distracted from his original goal of approach.

“Because our justice system doesn’t recognize gender identity as a major factor in people’s lives,” Cas retorts, “and because Jo has a penis, she is considered male in the eyes of a million old rich guys.”

“Last I heard, having a dick means you're a guy.” Al argues.

“Well nobody cares what you heard,” Dean snaps, feeling himself grow braver with Cas’ presence beside him.

Cas smiles widely and agrees, “Newbie has a point Alastair, nobody gives a fuck what you have to say.”

“Fuck you queers.”

“Alastair, is that any way to speak in front of a lady?” Cas scoffs mockingly, “Have some chivalry. I’m very sorry for his behavior Jo.”

Jo fans her face, feigning horror, “I do hope I’ll be able to recover Sir Novak. I can only pray that my pretty little heart will be able to prosper after suffering such vulgarity.”

Dean, Cas and Jo all laugh and turn back to Al, who looks confused and offended. “Oh whatever,” he mutters, clearly perturbed. He whirls on his heel and heads across the room to try and intimidate a few other people.

“Man don’t worry about him,” Jo tells Dean, “He’s just a big coward. I guarantee the more you stand up to him, the more he’ll back down.”

Dean runs a finger across his bruised face and sighs, “Would’ve been nice to know a few days ago.”

She shrugs, “You learn from experience I guess.”

Castiel snorts, “I suppose Jo has a point Newbie. Although, I really should’ve been there backing you up.”

Dean smiles weakly, “Don’t worry about it Cas.”

Jo tilts her head sideways, “Cas? Castiel he _nicknamed_ you?”

Cas chuckles, “Guess so.”

She grins, “Romantic.”

Dean’s face blushes deep crimson, “Jo it’s not-we’re not, _I’m_ not-”

“Dean’s pretending to be straight for the duration of his sentence,” Cas cuts him off, “Or perhaps forever?”

“I’m not _pretending_ anything,” Dean snaps, crossing his arms and ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs as he does so, “It’s fine that you like guys Cas, but I’m not interested.”

Dean licks his lips and turns away, trying to push Ricky’s face out of his mind as he says the words. He tries to forget the look on his father’s face after he’d seen Dean and his best friend James as they engaged in an unplanned, heat-of-the-moment kiss. John had blown a fuse, grabbing Dean's arm and ripping the boys apart. He'd thrown James out and said if he ever spoke to his son again, he'd raise hell.

Dean was just confused, overwhelmed and stressed. Dean isn’t gay. Dean doesn’t like boys. Dean loves girls. He loves the way their bodies curve at the waist and the rounded shape of breasts and...yeah he totally loves vaginas. The thought isn’t hard for him at all. Dean _loves_ women.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat; how’s he supposed to fool everyone else if he can’t even fool himself?

Cas seems to observe his fraught demeanor and decides not to push it, “Yeah Newbie. You got it.”

Dean sighs softly and leans back against the couch, inching a little away from Cas and trying to let the movie absorb his thoughts.

**

Dean ducks away from Cas after dinner to use the bathroom. It’s kind of a relief to be away from the tense effect that Castiel can have on him. Sure, he thinks the guy is pretty cool, but sometimes it’s hard to keep up their confusing friendship and act nonchalant. Needless to say, he takes his time in the bathroom. It’s almost curfew, so the stalls are empty and the showers are dry. He seems to be the only in there after he finishes up and moves to wash his hands. He washes thoroughly -germs are abundant in a place like this, and he is _not_ getting mono from a filthy sink or something- and moves for the door.

He stops at the door, hearing something from the other side of the bathroom. It sounds like crying, but he can’t be sure because it’s so soft. He turns slightly, debating whether or not this is a stupid idea. Despite his desperately low self-preservation instincts, he turns completely and begins walking slowly through the bathroom. He crosses the mirrors, which cut the room in half, and peers around to see Jo standing before one of the mirrors on the other side. She’s leaning over the sink, swiping at her eyes and weeping quietly. Her hair is a mess around her face, there’s a pair of tweezers by the sink, and her scrawny shoulders are trembling with sobs.

Dean feels like he’s invading her space, but he can’t just leave her, “Um, Jo?”

She whips her head up, quickly scrubbing at her eyes and narrowing them, “What do you want?”

He inches forward hesitantly, “Are you alright?”

Her jaw clenches visibly, “Fine.”

She runs the water and splashes her face, clearing her throat expectantly at Dean, who’s still staring, “What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighs deeply and picks up the tweezers, gesturing to one of her meticulously plucked brows, “I just…” her sentence trails off weakly, like the words are too tiring to spit out.

Dean understands what it’s like to desperately want to say something, but not really know how to do so.

“It’s okay,” he assures her, hopping up to sit on the counter beside the sink, “Take your time.”

“Sometimes it’s just hard,” she begins speedily, like she’s afraid someone’s going to stop her, “being in this body. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be told that you’re someone you’re not?”

Dean sighs lightly, “I can imagine.”

She shakes her head, throwing the tweezers against the mirror and watching them clink against the counter, grimacing at her reflection, “It’s not fair. I don’t get to be who I am. This-” she gestures down at her flat chest and bony hips, “It’s not me. I’m trapped in this fucking body and I can’t escape.”

Dean leans closer, putting a tentative arm around her shoulders, “Can I say something?”

“It better not be stupid.”

“Personally, I think you’re lovely looking already.”

It’s true, Dean’s not into girls- er, forget that just happened, he loves girls- but he does find her extremely beautiful. Her jaw is sleek and shapely, her lips are a little broad but still full and pink, her teeth are excellent, and her skin is to die for. Her hair is surprisingly vital for the generic soap given in the detention center, and it frames her face perfectly. She may not look like a typical woman, she’s got a masculine body and definitive “male” features about her, but she’s gorgeous all the same. Nothing about her really screams  _dude_ to Dean, despite misgendering her before Cas explained about her preferred pronouns. 

“Who decides what a woman looks like anyway?” Dean says out loud, although he’s not sure if he means to, “You know you’re a woman. And once you get out of here,” he shakes his head, “Maybe you can take steps to make you happier, you know? I bet you’d be awesome with makeup huh?”

“I am,” she admits, “I used to get into my mom’s lipstick all the time as a kid. She got so mad...but I think she secretly thought it was cute.”

She smiles at the memory, laughing a little to herself. Dean nods openly, encouraging her to continue reminiscing, “That’s why I’m here,” Jo mutters in a low, shameful voice, “I stole makeup from _Sephora_. God I took one look at the women who modeled for the store, they were so beautiful, they were everything I wanted to be. But there’s no way my mom would’ve bought me that stuff. I wanted- I _needed_ to try it.” she twirls a finger through a gold curl and shrugs, “I get out in a month. Guess mom and I will have to...discuss it when I get home.”

“I think it’ll go okay,” Dean offers, “I bet your mom will love you no matter what Jo.”

“How can you say that? There are so many horror stories about there where trans kids get fucking disowned for this stuff.”

Dean sighs and hugs her shoulders a little tighter, “That’s true. Yet on the other hand, why does that mean it’ll happen to you? Sure bad stuff happens all the time, people are bastards for no reason. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t live your life. You've got to be yourself Jo, no matter what happens. No matter what you think or what other people think, the only way you're gonna survive is by accepting yourself, and doing things for you. There is good and love in the world, always. I know sometimes it seems impossible to find and you want to just give up, but it’s always going to be there. There's always gonna be that sunshine hidden behind storm clouds. I think if you talk to your mom, she’s going to love you the same as if you were a boy.”

Jo sniffles again, laughing bitterly, “Damn Dean. You get that from a movie or something?”

Dean chuckles, “Just telling you the truth Jo.”

She shakes her head, “You don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re no criminal. You’re an idiot, but you’re not a criminal.”

Dean shrugs, “State of Kansas seems to think I am.”

She rolls her eyes and kisses his cheek, startling him, “You know what Dean? That good you're talking about? I think I just found some of it.”

She picks up her tweezers and heads for the door, stopping once to tell him, “Maybe you should take your own advice. Being yourself can be hard, but you might feel a bit less...trapped if you try it out."

She disappears before he can ask her what that means, and he sighs. Everyone here is so damn cryptic.

As he walks back to the cell he and Castiel share, he tries to forgot her words and focus on getting some sleep. He's gonna need a lot of it to be able to survive this place.


	6. The Penalty of Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: very NSFW, kind of non-con detailed mentions of food, lots of emotional and generally mature stuff.  
> Please enjoy, let me know what you think! :)

Honestly, the thing Dean misses most about being outside isn’t his family, as guilty as he is to admit it. It’s the food and the music. He misses biting into a thick cheeseburger, his teeth tearing into the melting cheese and hot beef as the flavor explodes between his lips and juice runs down his tongue. He misses tucking into a slice of his mom’s hot, squishy apple pie as his father plays music from the radio. He misses coordinating his chores to the thrumming beats of Zeppelin or Alice In Chains.

Things were never perfect at his house; his parents fought all the time, he and his dad were constantly at odds, and he often would sneak out to go steal something and bring it to some random girl’s house for a night of short-lived fucking.But, all that aside, it was always nice being in cinnamon-smelling house, eating amazing food and bobbing his head to some of the best music he’s ever heard.

The only melodic sound here, is Castiel’s singing. It’s low and off-key, slightly overpowered by the banging and clanging of cells opening and closing and inmates shouting profanity, but it’s there. It’s late now, Tuesday night. The lights are mostly out, save the cheap, bedside lamp that Cas has turned on as he reads something from the top bunk. Dean didn’t get a great look at it, but he’s pretty sure it’s the freakin’ bible.

Cas is singing _Sing_ by the Dresdon Dolls now, and Dean can hear his soft, raspy voice as he lulls on, “ _Just...sing_ …”

“You like to sing huh?” Dean states matter-of-factly.

Cas’ song cuts off and he chuckles, “You don’t say Newbie?”

Dean smiles and leans back against his pillows, “It’s nice.”

“Oh yeah? Last guy I shared a cell with, got so _annoyed._ He was too vocal about it,” Cas muses, “ left with a broken nose.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, “You broke his nose?”

“He didn’t like my singing.”

Sometimes Dean forgets how...scary Castiel can be.

“Why do you do that?” he asks stupidly, cursing himself as he does so.

“Do what?”

_Shut up shut up you idiot!_

“Act so violent?”

_You’re dead Dean you dumb shit. You’re done for. Goodbye, nice knowing you!_

“I am violent Newbie.”

“I...I don’t think so Cas.”

Cas leans over the bed, quirking an eyebrow curiously up at Dean, “Why do you say that?”

“Well I invade your personal space very often and you’ve never threatened _me._ ”

Cas shrugs, “I like you Newbie. You don’t piss me off.”

Dean purses his lips before saying, “But...why?”

Cas sighs, “How do I answer that?”

“I mean it Cas, what makes me so different?”

Cas plops down, “I’m not sure Newbie. You’re just not like these other people. You don’t belong here.”

Dean thinks this is fairly reminiscent of what Jo told him last night, but before he can point it out, Cas continues, “You’re a dumbass outside of course, but inside I think there’s something really special.”

Dean snorts, “Ain’t nothin’ in here Cas, you oughtta know that by now.”

“I’m not sure I buy this self-deprecating thing either,” Cas ignores him, “You’ve gotta know how gorgeous you are. I mean, that could get you far in life despite what we want to think. Being pretty can make you successful.”

Dean wants to argue that him being attractive has only aggravated his already tedious relationship with his homophobic father, and made it increasingly difficult to deal with rejection, but all that comes out is, “Huh?”

Castiel shakes his head, biting his lower lip, “I guess what I’m trying to say is...you make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

Now, Dean’s _really_ confused, “Cas what the fuck are you talking about?”

“C’mon,” Cas groans, “I’m this big scary slut that makes Newbies like you cower in their boots. You’re this skinny little dork who is only here because he steals to feel alive, to feel _anything_ really. You deserve to feel Newbie, don’t you think?”

“I do feel Cas,” Dean grumbles, getting a little annoyed at his psychoanalysis of Dean’s kleptomania, “I feel all the time. My ribs still hurt from Al kicking the shit out of me.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Cas snaps, “Don’t avoid this. You’re so different and it makes me...nervous. I’m afraid to be violent with you. I...I wouldn’t want to harm something so important. You need help, not to be threatened by me.”

“ _I_ need help?” Dean demands, “You don’t know me Cas, you don’t know anything.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “I’m serious Newbie. You’re messed up, in here.” he taps his own temple, and Dean groans.

“I’m not messed up,” he lies.

“Really because you and your father didn’t exactly seem to be on the best terms.”

Dean pales, “You _heard_ that?”

“The guy’s loud Newbie, _everyone_ heard that.”

“Oh god.”

“So what is it? He knows you’re gay?”

“I’m not g-” Dean sighs quietly, knowing his argument will mean nothing to Castiel, who refuses to buy it anyway, “I’ve been with girls you know.”

“Well duh, look at you.” Cas rolls his eyes again, a gesture that’s becoming more endearing than Dean wants, “But was it real?”

Why the hell does Dean feel like he can trust Cas? He barely knows him, he doesn’t even know his middle name, or his birthday, or where he’s from. All he knows is the guy is serving time for a crime he might not have committed, he has sex with anyone he wants, and four years of being an inmate have turned him into a cynical, mistrustful thug.

So why does he want to spill his guts to Castiel right now?

“Look Cas, I see what you’re trying to do here-”

“Stop denying who you are. I think most of your issues stem from this one thing Newbie. Maybe if you fucking let someone in you’ll be able to breathe on your own. You won’t need to do illegal shit to feel alive.”

“What’re you a therapist now?”

“I spent a good deal of my childhood around one,” he shrugs, “My mom liked helping people. That doesn’t matter though, I want to talk about you.”

“Your mom,” Dean sits up, “You’ve never mentioned your mom. Your dad yeah, I know you’ve got brothers, but your mom?”

“Well…” his sentence trails off weakly, and he tugs at the cross around his neck.

“Tell me about her,” Dean insists, both pleased to have Cas talking about himself, and the conversation switching from Dean’s hermetic sexuality.

“She died when I was twelve.”

“A year before you were sent here?”

Cas fidgets, swallowing hard, “Y- hey, wait, how’d you know I had brothers?”

Dean’s eyes widen, “Oh uh I wasn’t sure, I-I saw you with three guys on visiting day. I just assumed-”

“ _What did you hear_?”

“Nothing!” Dean squeaks, terrified of the alarming, threatening tone Castiel’s voice has taken on. His jaw is locked, expression minacious, and the unreadable swarm of emotion in sapphire eyes is spine-chilling.

“ _Dean_ , what the hell did you hear?”

Dean’s heart crawls into his throat as he hears his name exit Castiel’s lips. He’d assumed he’d never hear Cas say his actual name ever again. It’s mortifying to wonder what he’s done for Cas to resort to the use of anything other than ‘Newbie.’

“You didn’t do it,” Dean manages in a low voice, “You took the fall for your dad.”

_That’s it Dean-o, you’re actually getting killed this time. No negotiation on this one Newbie, you’re fucking dead. Get ready to be shanked. Say goodbye to college! Say goodbye to marriage! You’re about to get your ass stabbed!_

Castiel stares at him. And stares.

And _stares_.

“Cas... _say something_.”

“Don’t call me that!” he growls, turning away from Dean. His face is angry, but his movements and voice are unsure. There’s something buried beneath the rage, something unfamiliar and confusing. Hope.

“Castiel, hey it’s okay.” Dean braves, reaching out to touch his cellmate’s shoulder tentatively, “I’m not going to do anything.”

Cas slaps his hand away, which hurts more than Dean would like to admit, although he’s sure Castiel is holding back. Cas is silent for a few more agonizing moments, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then, he snaps his head towards Dean and gets to his feet, towering over the green-eyed boy with no hesitance.

“Cas?” Dean stammers, “What’re you gonna do?”

Cas leans down so he’s eye to eye with Dean, and then roughly pushes the other boy’s shoulders. Dean falls back against the pillow, gasping more from shock than pain. He climbs into the bed, straddling Dean’s thighs and pressing into his wrists hard, trapping him.

“Wha-”

“Shut up,” Cas growls, “Tell me you fucking want this.”

Dean has to admit: Castiel looks sexy right now. His tanned face is flushed red with anger and frustration, his broad lips are curled up angrily over his teeth, and his words come out as breathless, feral snarls.

“I’m not gay,” Dean croaks, but it’s half-hearted and pathetic.

He begins to say more, but Cas cuts him off by smashing his lips against Dean’s. At first, the kiss is messy and sloppily placed. Then, Castiel gains more control and the quick, rough kisses are even and meticulous. Castiel’s lips are artful and his tongue slides across just the right places in Dean’s mouth. His breath is minty, teeth freshly brushed, and his mouth is moist and smooth. He must wear a lot of chapstick. Only when Cas pulls his lips centimeters away does Dean get the chance to breathe. He sucks in some desperately needed gulps of air, and stares up, wide-eyed at Castiel’s still furious face.

“What was that Cas?”

Castiel’s grip on Dean’s wrists tightens by a fraction, and he snaps, “Shut the fuck up.”

Surprisingly...Dean isn’t scared. Not of Cas, at least. He should be terrified truthfully, he just told the guy that he knows about his false imprisonment, and his first instinct had been to jump on Dean and forcefully make out with him. That ain’t normal, not normal at all.

But Dean feels...excited.

The breath is rushing in and out of his lungs with a burning sensation, his chest feels heavier with each influx of oxygen. His entire body is shaking and rearing up, as if he’s sprinting in place. Adrenaline courses through his veins, making his mind whirl and his eyes misty with excitement. He feels...alive.

This doesn’t make sense. When he feels this way he’s running like hell away from a store with something stolen clutched against his body. He doesn’t feel this way laying down, he doesn’t feel this way with other people. He doesn’t...Dean doesn’t feel.

Cas makes him _feel_.

“We’re doing this,” he surprises himself by saying it outloud, still staring at Cas with the expression of a deer in headlights, “we’re doing this.”

“We’re fucking doing it.” Cas hisses, beginning to sharply slide Dean’s white t-shirt off his torso. Dean’s ribcage is still disgusting and bruised up from the boot that had collided with it, but he doesn’t even care right now. Nothing can make him feel insecure, nothing can make him feel less alive. Cas’ tongue trails down the dip in Dean’s chest, following through all the way down to his pelvis, where it changes to kissing and sucking. Dean can feel the hickey’s developing as Cas crosses the border of Dean’s waistline, tugging his pants down with them.

Dean’s glad he doesn’t wear boxers to bed.

Now fully naked, Dean lays in front of Castiel, who’s still completely clothed and sitting up on top of him. His rage has seemed to die down a little, but his thick chest still heaves with panting, and he still swallows hard. Castiel just trails his eyes down the length of Dean’s body, taking no shame in his leisurely scrutiny of the boy before him.

“You ever done this before?” Cas demands, peeling his shirt off and tossing it across the room, leaving Dean to admire the shapely muscles and pulsing tendons in his arms and torso.

“Only a little stuff with a guy,” Dean admits roughly, closing his eyes as he tries to get Ricky’s face out of his mind.His eyes reopen when Castiel touches his face. He’s completely nude now, that awful scar on his belly extremely potent in the dim light of the cell.

He spreads Dean’s legs, and keeps eye contact with him the whole time. Cas puts his index finger in his mouth and slickens it with spit, before stroking down between Dean’s thighs towards his entrance. Dean holds his breath, viridescent eyes locking with azure ones as Cas tediously eases in his finger. Dean’s had more than this in him before, deeper too, but the sensation still rocks him into the sheets and has him gasping. Cas strokes his finger slowly back and forth inside Dean, other hand going to massage Dean’s cock. He’s getting hard just watching Dean squirm beneath his touch, and Dean’s slightly intimidated by the impressive size of Castiel’s dick. It’s nothing tremendous of course, but it certainly is more than he’s ever had...down there. Plus, he doesn’t know what Cas intends to lubricate it with, seeing as his spit isn’t going to suffice.

And yet, he doesn’t fucking care.

Dean’s heartbeat quickens with the pace of Cas’ finger, and he can feel his breathing continue to get heavy. He forgets what he even did to upset Castiel, and thinks, if this is Cas angry, he’ll have to piss him off more often.

Cas startles him by popping another finger in, which makes Dean flinch a little, but more from surprise than anything. The pleasure increases, matching with the stimulation of his cock as Cas’ hand slowly slides up and down, rubbing the head with precise motivation. Dean lets out a little groan, eyes sliding away from Cas’ as he squeezes them shut and ignores the whirlwind of his thoughts. Focusing on the sheer pleasure of Castiel’s hands has him gripping the sheets beside him and gasping for air. Cas is fucking _amazing_ and Dean is finally living.

Dean freezes when the fingers are removed at the rubbing of his cock stops. His eyes shoot open and he flies into a sitting position, staring in shock as Castiel climbs off the bed and begins grabbing at his clothes.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean cries, his erect cock and throbbing hole begging him for release.

Cas looks over his shoulder as he slides his hips into his sweatpants and replaces his shirt over his body, “Don’t fucking tell _anyone_ what you heard Dean.”

Dean’s jaw drops in horror, as he realizes what’s happening. Cas climbs up to his bunk and covers up, as if nothing had just happened.

Dean is being _punished_. He whimpers in disbelief, but knows he can’t do anything.

“Go ahead,” Cas’ monotone voice says from above him, “Pleasure yourself.”

Dean feels mortified knowing that Castiel is listening, but he has no choice. His entire body is rippling with ecstasy, his mind still reeling from the frayed emotions coursing through it. He begins to stroke his own cock, biting his lip and sucking his breath in silently. He will not give Castiel the satisfaction of hearing him moan out the blue-eyed boy’s name, although he desperately wants to. He finishes, coating himself in shame and hurt.

He doesn’t feel alive anymore, he feels like a burnt out lightbulb.

He breathes slowly and cleans himself off with a dirty sock, tossing it in the small laundry basket beside the door before pulling his pajamas back on and rolling back into bed, still trying to process what the fuck had just happened.

“Night Newbie,” Castiel says, and flicks the lamp off.

Dean turns over in the darkness, and it's in the stunned silence that follows, that he begins to quietly cry.


	7. Illness and Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, most aspects of this fictional juvenile delinquent center are very unrealistic (fuck realism I take so much artistic liberty ok I'm a nerd)
> 
> Warnings: vomiting, brief mentions of abuse, homophobia, general mature content
> 
> Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts :)

_“Come on Dean…” James urges, leaning a little closer to the freckled boy beside him. His lips curl up in a knowing smile, and his brown eyes twinkle with excitement, “Let’s just do it.”_

_“I can’t,” Dean insists, leaning away from his best friend with extreme reluctance, “My dad’s downstairs, if he comes in…”_

_“He won’t,” James insists, grabbing Dean’s hand warmly, “I’m right here.”_

_Dean squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing and looking away. He tries not to focus on how fucking right James’ hand feels in his, how the smooth curves of their palms slide together perfectly._

_“Look at me,” James murmurs, touching his fingers to Dean’s chin and lifting his head. Dean opens his eyes and locks gazes with James, licking his lips. His heart hammers in his chest and beads of sweat roll leisurely down the back of his neck._

_“You’re shaking,” James whispers tenderly, and Dean shudders. Silent and still, Dean keeps his eyes locked on James’ as the boy leans in and gingerly brushes their lips together. After a moments hesitation, James brings his lips back and deepens the kiss. Sparks of intangible electricity course through Dean’s lips, and he grabs James by the collar, pressing their bodies tight and close. He relishes in the incredible feeling of his best friends mouth on his, the mingling of minty breath and the icy chill of the unknown._

_Then, the door bursts open, and John steps in, “Hey guys it’s dinner t-” Dean and James break away, gasping and frozen. John’s eyes settle on their interlocked hands, and his face flushes red._

_“You,” he growls at James, crossing the room in three big strides and grabbing James’ upper arm, yanking him to his feet, “no! You get the fuck out of my house!”_

_“Dad no!” Dean cries, bolting to his feet and following John and James as John drags the boy down the stairs. He throws the front door open, slinging James out into the street. The boy stumbles and lands hard on his butt, grunting as he hits the concrete. Dean lurches forward to help him up, but John grabs the back of his neck and yanks him back against the taller man’s side._

_“Don’t fucking move kid,” John growls sternly, his stringent expression unforgiving. His voice has never sounded so cold. Dean stares up at his father’s face, all the unsaid words and hidden feelings leaking out his eyes in that very instant. John’s stoic demeanor shifts to that of permeated rage and unshed tears, his hand tightening on Dean’s neck._

_“You’re sick!” James growls at John, scrambling to his feet, “you’d deny your son happiness, comfort? Safety! All because you’re an ass-backwards traditionalist who’s insecure with his own masculinity! Fuck you old man! Fuck you!”_

_“You stay away from my son!” John screams back, “You stay the fuck away from my son and you never come back here! If I see your face around again I’ll fucking rearrange it you toxic little shit!”_

_“I’m sorry Dean!” James snarls, “I’m sorry that your dad is so fucked. I hope I see you again someday.”_

_“Don’t count on it queer!”_

_“Fuck you!”_

_“Stay away from here!” John calls angrily as James treks down the street in a furious blister of rage, “You stay away!”_

“Stay away….stay away...stay _away..._ ”

“DEAN! WAKE UP!”

Dean jolts upwards, gasping and blinking rapidly. He stares up into Castiel’s blank azure eyes.

“Wha?” he mumbles sleepily.

“C’mon Newbie,” Cas urges nonchalantly, “time for breakfast, get up. I think you were having a nightmare.”

Dean rubs the dream away from his mind and stares as Castiel puts the finishing touches on his constantly perfect hair and fixes the buttons on his jumpsuit. He’s acting as if everything is perfectly normal, like last night hadn’t happened. He’s going to gloss over the incident like it doesn’t exist. Dean feels sick to his stomach. He knows within a second that it’s not just from Castiel’s behavior, as he leans over the side of the bed and vomits violently on the floor.

“Oh Newbie!” Cas exclaims in mock disgust, although there’s a faint hint of disguised concern in his tone, “That’s fucking gross. Hey, guard!”

Bobby happens to be the guard patrolling their ward when Cas calls. He approaches the cell and unlocks the door, stepping in, “what’s up guys?”

Cas jerks his chin towards the pile of puke on the floor and the dry-heaving boy above it, “Newbie’s sick.”

“Oh man,” Bobby quirks an eyebrow up and scratches his beard thoughtfully, “Alright Castiel, I’m gonna get the custodial workers up here, you take Dean to the infirmary.”

“Sure thing Mr. Singer,” Castiel says in a chipper tone, swooping down to put a supporting arm around Dean’s waist. Dean feels disgusted with himself for leaning into the touch, allowing all of his weight to rest comfortably against Cas’ thick, warm side. He wants to be strong; to tell Cas to fuck off and that Dean can walk to the damn infirmary on his own, but Cas is so soft and sturdy.

“Feel better kid,” Bobby says fleetingly as he watches Dean and Castiel disappear down the hall, “god knows you’ll need to.”

Dean ignores this, breathing evenly and leaning on Cas for support as he tries to swallow down the rest of the bile that’s threatening to come up his sore throat.

“What’s up with you Newbie?” Cas demands, frowning, “you were fine last night.”

 _I was not fine last night_ , Dean thinks, _I was fucked up last night_. He just shrugs weakly and swallows again.

“Hmm,” Cas frowns, and places his knuckles against Dean’s forehead, “you do feel pretty hot. Maybe you got the flu or something. Public bathrooms are riddled with germs.”

Dean knows this, in fact, he’s meticulously scrubbed every inch of his flesh at any chance he got since he arrived here to avoid this very situation. There’s no way he caught the flu from the bathroom, it’s most likely form being in a confined space with another inmate who’s either been sick recently or is sick. Dean’s got the weakest immune system ever, he’s the most illness-susceptible person on planet Earth. But Cas doesn’t know this, Cas doesn’t know Dean.

He doesn’t know Dean at all.

“Maybe you were having a fever dream last night,” Cas suggests as they continue down the lengthy halls, “sometimes that happens. What was it about?”

Dean ignores him still, focusing on not tossing his cookies all over his cellmate. Cas won’t take his silence though, he halts and turns to face Dean, “What’s your problem Newbie?”

“That’s a stupid question douchepants!” Dean growls, wishing something more scathing and eloquent had come out, but standing firm nonetheless, “you know what my problem is.”

Cas is about to reply angrily, when Dean doubles over, clutching his stomach and gagging. He leans one hand against the wall for support and retches up nothing. Cas’ demeanor swiftly changes from belligerence to concern as he reaches out towards Dean.

“Don’t touch me!” Dean snaps, which takes all of his strength.

Cas straightens his shoulders and sighs, “You need to get something in your stomach.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Dean demands, swallowing the bile in his throat and stiffening his back, “I can get myself to the infirmary.”

“Newbie you’re sick,” Cas says in a strained voice, “just, let me take care of you, okay?”

“No!” Dean exclaims, backing away from Cas’ tentative advances, “how the hell would I be able to let you? After last night?”

“I had to do that!” Cas argues, throwing his hands up defensively.

“No you didn’t,” Dean barks back, crossing his arms over his stomach, trying to shrink himself away from Castiel’s rough voice and regretting his decision to bring this up, “I didn’t do anything to you.”

“I had to make sure you didn’t tell,” Cas’ voice is less angry and more soft now; he won’t meet Dean’s eyes, “I had to...you have to know how serious I am about this.”

“Maybe try a little trust?” Dean demands, “don’t just assume that everyone is out to get you Cas! I told you I wouldn't do anything, fucking believe me. Maybe you could change things if you fucking trusted som-” his voice cuts off as he lurches forward towards the nearest trash bin and empties what little is left in his stomach, panting and heaving hard.

Cas ignores his previous orders to leave him alone, and Dean feels the other boy’s hand on the base of his spine, rubbing in circles as he murmurs, “It’s okay Dean...it’ll be okay…”

“Fuck you,” Dean gags out weakly, tears washing his cheeks as he continues to hurl violently. Cas sighs softly but continues stroking Dean’s back in a way that’s very uncharacteristically soothing of him. Usually his behavior only stands to unsettle Dean, right now he feels like he’s back in the embrace of his mom. Creepy, why does he keep comparing Cas to Mary? He should stop doing so, they're nothing alike. But there's something so comforting and safe about Castiel's presence, even when Dean knows he should be furious. 

Cas hesitates, his hand stilling on Dean’s back, “you’re really sick Newbie, I need to go get the doctor.”

“Go!” Dean grumbles, “Leave me alone.”

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“I will be fantastic,” Dean snarls, before continuing to barf. Reluctantly, Cas turns on his heel and speeds down the hall towards the swinging doors at the end.

Dean watches him go, both furious at his behavior, and flattered. As he turns back towards the trash can to upchuck, he’s so struck that he met someone who can make him feel both. Jackass.

**

The infirmary doctor -god bless whoever decided detention centers need infirmaries- takes Dean back to her room. It kind of reminds him of the school nurses office, which makes him want to laugh. She’s kind of intimidating, tall and wide, but she’s sweet as hell. Too nice for this place. Dean follows her through a curtain, relieved that she has no trouble supporting his dwindling weight with one arm as she leads him towards the examination table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone sitting up on one of the beds crying, but he can’t make out the face.

Cas had tried to follow them in, but the doctor forbid his entrance, telling him it was for the sick only. Now, as she helps Dean up on to the table, he asks, “Was that true?”

She shakes her head, “I’ll let anybody in here, if they’re feeling down or even just want to avoid other people. You just didn’t seem to want his company. I have a degree in psychology as well so they decided to cut costs and have me serve both medical and emotional purposes.”

“Nice,” Dean grumbles weakly, “they’re so considerate of our feelings.”

She sighs as she gets one of those whatcha-ma-callits that shines the light down into patient’s throats, and turns it into Dean’s mouth, “Sorry to tell you kid, but once you’re in here your feelings don’t matter. They think you kids are a bunch of maniacal criminals, when really, all you guys need is some good old fashioned comfort.”

Dean chuckles feebly, “Maybe so. So what about that kid out there crying?”

She sighs again, glancing towards the door that separates them from the kid, “His name’s Alastair, he comes in here a lot. Kid’s had a rough damn life, I’ll tell you that. A string of bad mistakes and abuse led him here, but I think like a lot of them, he just needed to escape things.”

Dean’s eyes widen as the doctor -whose nametag reads Dr. Moseley- says these words. “Alastair?” he squeaks.

She nods, quirking an eyebrow up, “Why do you ask?”

Dean brushes a finger over the very faint discoloration that Al’s fist has left below his eye, “No reason…” he murmurs quietly, trying not to think about what this development means.

Doctor Moseley shrugs, “Well you’ve probably just got a stomach bug. Bedrest is probably your only option for a few days. Why don’t you go in there and lay down and I’ll bring you some water and crackers. If you feel like you’re gonna hurl, grab the trash bin at the foot of the bed and go crazy.”

“Thank you,” Dean mutters as she helps him off the table and opens the door. He heads through the curtain and lays down on the small cot opposite of the one Al’s crying into his hands on. Alastair lifts his head as Dean enters, quickly looking away and swiping violently at his face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean assures him tiredly, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“Whatever,” Al growls, and Dean sighs, nobody ever believes him when he says that it seems. There’s a stretch of silence that settles on both of their shoulders like a brick. Dean’s perfectly fine ignoring the crying douchebag beside him and trying to get some rest, but apparently Al can’t let this go unfinished.

“If you tell anyone I’ll-”

“Yeah yeah yeah painful death,” Dean mutters in an uninterested voice, “I know the drill man, you and your goons already fucked me up. I’m scared of you.” He’s not lying, although his monotone tone might hint at indifference. It’s not that he isn’t scared, cause Al still terrifies him, it’s just that he can’t find himself caring at this moment.

Al wrinkles his nose in anger, but shakes his head, “Okay whatever Freckles.”

Dean turns over on his side, breathing in deeply through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut to avoid yacking again. There’s another few moments of uninterrupted silence, and then Al asks in a low voice, “Are you sick or something?”

“What do you care?”

“I’m just _asking_.”

Dean cracks an eye open and looks at Al, _really_ looks at him. He still looks like a maniacal meth head, but there’s something different now that he’s not beating Dean to a pulp. Something so...broken. Al looks like the shell of a peanut that’s been cracked apart and thrown away to get to the edible part. He’s the unimportant husk of something that once was, continuously drilled and broken apart until nothing is left but hollowed, empty eyes, and a forlorn expression.

“Yes,” Dean replies quietly, “Stomach bug.”

Al nods, “Ginger helps with nausea sometimes, ask Missouri, she might have some.”

“Who?”

“Doctor Moseley,” he corrects, “Missouri is her first name.”

Man, he’s on a first name basis with the counselor. That’s rough.

“I’ll ask her...and thanks.”

Al shrugs, leaning back against the wall, “This stays between us Freckles.”

“You got it.”

He rises from the cot, blinking away the last of his tears and hesitating before he says, “Feel better Dean.”

Dean watches him go, and he feels sick to his stomach for more than one reason.


	8. Labyrinth of Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK yeah warnings first as usual: illness, puking, loss of appetite, homophobia, general mature content of course.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and omg the ones coming up get so intense wow ok 
> 
> Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts :)
> 
> (also poor Dean he can't catch a break I am so mean to him)

The bug lasts a little over 24 hours, and it’s the most hellish experience Dean has ever endured.

He spends the first twelve hours relentlessly throwing up anything he tries to put in his stomach, water, crackers, even when he tries chewing gum it makes him vomit. The next 6 hours consist of him gagging at the mention of food, and curling into a ball to fight off both his hunger pangs and the intense nausea that overwhelms every movement. Cold sweats break across his face and neck, a sheen of liquid coating his forehead almost constantly, although he’s freezing.

“I’m dying,” he groans during hour 15, as Missouri dabs at his face soothingly with a wet rag.

“You’re not dying boy,” she chides softly, “You’ve got the flu.”

“I miss my mom,” he complains, and he doesn’t care one fucking bit how lame it sounds. All he wants right now is his mother’s tomato rice soup and the soft sound of her voice singing _Hey Jude_.

“I know honey,” Missouri coos, “here, try some more water. Can’t have you gettin’ dehydrated. Lord knows they _still_ wouldn’t bring you to the hospital.”

With shaking hands Dean brings the cup of water to his dry lips, sipping it delicately as not to upset his angry stomach. He hasn’t eaten in an estimated 15 hours -not counting the 8 he slept on Tuesday night- and it’s almost 10 PM on Wednesday night. His stomach is both raw with hunger, and swirling with aggravation and nausea.

A knock on the door attracts the attention of both Missouri and Dean, who asks, “what’s that?”

She sighs, “That boy, Castiel, he’s been trying to see you all day.”

“Not letting him in?”

She chuckles, “He even faked illness, said you got him sick. He was fine, the little shit tried to weasel past me to get in here.”

Dean frowns deeply, why the hell is Cas trying so hard to mother-hen him? Can’t he just leave Dean alone? He’s already expressed that Dean’s feelings mean absolutely nothing.

“I don’t want to see him,” Dean’s voice is almost pleading, “please don’t let him in.”

“Don’t worry boy, I won’t. I’ll go get rid of him, you try to finish up that water.” Dean nods gratefully as she gets to her feet and walks around the corner to the front door. Dean can’t see her anymore, but he listens carefully for the click of the lock disengaging, and the door slowly squeaking open.

“Doctor Moseley,” Castiel’s voice is almost urgent, “Can I come in?”

“No son, it’s quarantine in there.”

“ _You’re_ in there.”

“Don’t contradict me young man.”

“Uh...sorry? Look, I just need to see him. Five seconds ma’am, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“He doesn’t want to see you boy, don’t you get that by now?”

“Yeah I get it. Doesn’t mean I care.”

There’s a pause, and then Missouri says, “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t care about his feelings son, only yours. Dean’s sick, he doesn’t need visitors. He’s okay.”

Cas starts to reply, but Dean’s stomach begins to disagree with his draining of the water cup. He leans up in bed, grabbing the trash can he’s grown used to in the past 15 hours, and begins retching violently into it.

“What was that?” Castiel’s voice again, “That’s him, he does not _sound_ okay!”

“Don’t you push me boy! It’s nice that you’re so worried about him but-”

“I am _not_ worried about him,” Cas contradicts irritably.

“Then why are you here?” Missouri demands.

“I...well...I don’t know ma’am.”

“Go to bed boy, before the guards get on ya for being missing.”

Castiel’s sigh is deep, defeated, “Will you tell him I came by? Tell him- god, just tell him I need to talk to him please?”

“I might.”

“You-” he sighs again, seeing as there’s no getting around Missouri’s sharp attitude and strong backbone, “Thanks.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.” The door closes again, the lock clicks, and Missouri appears in the doorway, shaking her head and clicking her tongue scornfully.

“What?” Dean demands, peering up at her from the rim of the trash can.

“What have you gotten yourself into boy?” she scolds, crossing her arms over her chest like he’s a misbehaved child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. _Castiel’s_ cookie jar, apparently.

“Nothing,” he manages, “he’s my friend. He..watched out for me is all.”

“Oh that’s more than a friend darling,” Missouri sits beside Dean again, sighing, “that boy cares. Too much.”

Dean sighs, which makes him gag and he buries his head in the can, grimacing at the disgusting odor of his own puke, “Like I said, I’m dying.”

She shakes her head, “Looks like you’re already dead.”

“Thanks Ms. Missouri, that makes me feel tons better.”

“How long have you been here Dean?”

“Um 15 hours?”

“Not in the infirmary boy! I mean _here_.”

“Oh- oh here. Today makes it a week. Why?”

Her coffee colored eyes lock with his glaucous ones, and she murmurs, “You’ve known that boy for a week?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

She gnaws on her lip, her dark skin bathed in fluorescent light; it looks almost sickly, “That boy had years in his eyes Dean. Not a week.”

Dean shakes his head, “I’m sorry...I don’t understand.”

She purses her lips, “Dean, I want you stay away from him. You’re a nice boy but Castiel...he’s frightening. He’s not right, up here,” she taps her temple and continues, “he’s dangerous and I don’t want you getting hurt. You never know when he’s going to fly off the rails.”

Dean contemplates her words, matching them up with the incident from last night. Cas had been truly terrifying -ignoring the fact that he was sexy as all fucking hell- and Dean had been pretty horrified. Then, he’d acted like nothing had happened and his actions were totally justified. Maybe Missouri is right...maybe Dean shouldn’t have gotten involved with Cas. After all, why is everyone so scared of him? One doesn’t earn such an accolade without proper reason. Maybe Castiel is much more menacing and untrustworthy than Dean has come to expect. Maybe Dean is mistaking the greatness in him, for goodness. Dean considers the difference. Castiel is great, he’s a monument, a humungous structure of fear and courage. But is he _good_? Because underneath the courage and intimidation...what’s left?

Dean looks into the earnest eyes of Missouri, “Maybe you’re right ma’am.”

“If you ever feel unsafe, just come here, okay? Because I didn’t like the look on his face...not one bit. Almost crazed Dean, as if you were his soulmate, not his cellmate.”

Dean swallows hard, nodding, “I understand. Thanks.”

“Of course boy. Now gimme that trash bin, and you try to get some rest hm?”

Dean nods feebly, handing the vomit-heavy bin over to her and pulling the thin, cot sheet up tight around his body. He wonders when she goes home, or does someone come in and replace her?

“Hey wait,” he says as she turns to exit the room.

She arches a brow, “Yeah?”

“Are you leaving?”

She shakes her head, “I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“Don’t you have to get home?”

“No Dean, there’s nothing there for me anyway.”

She closes the curtain that separates her office and the cots, and Dean shuts his mouth. Even the most balanced people have their issues.

_“I don’t care Dean! You are not allowed to hangout with that boy anymore!”_

_“But dad!” Dean argues, crossing the living room as John flops down on the couch beside Mary, “It was just a mistake, we’re not, I’m not-”_

_“I don’t want to hear it son.” John orders in his totalitarian voice Dean has come to resent, “You kissed that boy. I will not have that behavior in my house.”_

_“Our house,” Mary interjects, “And Dean can hangout with James if he wants to. Dean can kiss James all he wants.”_

_“Mary,” John pinches the bridge of his nose, “How many times can we have this discussion? I don’t want to listen to this liberal hippie bullshit, my son is a man, and he will not be some other boy’s bitch.”_

_“Dad!”_

_“Johnathon! Watch your mouth! You are so lucky Sam isn’t home right now.”_ _Mary turns to Dean, clenching her jaw, “I’m sorry Dean, but your father and I seem to disagree on this one. James isn’t allowed back over.”_

_Dean stares in horror at his mother, “Mom! How can you-”_

_“But, I will gladly drive you wherever you need to go in order to see him.”_

_“What?” John and Dean manage simultaneously, which causes them to glare harshly at one another._

_“John, you said not in the house. Dean can go kiss James wherever he wants, as long as you don’t see it.”_

_In an angry fluster, John rises from the couch, shoots Dean a glare, and storms out of the room. Dean looks towards his mom with pleasant surprise, “Thank you mom.”_

_She smiles, “It’s the little victories Dean. The little things._ ”

“Dean honey, wake up. Oh christ, Dean?” Dean moans, rolling over on his back and blinking his eyes open. They’re crusty with eye boogers and dry as hell. His tongue feels like sandpaper, and each swallow of spit makes him flinch.

“Wha’s happn’n?” he slurs sloppily, leaning up on his elbows.

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours bub,” Missouri says over him, “it’s middle of the mornin, you best be getting up.”

“ _Twelve hours_?” he manages lamely, swallowing hard and moving his sore bones into a sitting position.

She nods, “You must’ve been exhausted boy, not been sleeping well?”

Dean grimaces, and rubs his eyes, “Haven’t had the most stress-free week, you might imagine.”

She purses her lips, “You still feel sick?”

“Not really,” he says, “sluggish and weak I guess, but mostly just hungry.” Lassitude crawls over him like a creeping snake and it’s everything in his power not to collapse back on to the pillow. Despite having just slept twelve friggin hours, his whole body feels tired and sore. His abdominal muscles are worn thin, and his throat burns.

“The bug took a lot out of you,” she says, crossing the room to fill a paper cup with water and return it to him, “puking up nothin’ for twelve straight hours’ll do that to you kiddo. And you didn't have much meat on them bones to begin with."

He eagerly gulps down the cup’s contents, sighing in relief as the cool water washes over his aching throat and soothes the burn of stomach acid and dehydration.

“Thanks a lot ma’am,” he says earnestly, “You really helped me through it.”

“That’s my job kiddo. Mr. Singer is waiting outside the door to escort you to the bathroom and then the rec hall, just in case. Whenever you’re ready.”

Dean still feels pretty weary, but he’s been stuck in this cot for too long, and his breath is horrendous. Plus, he always feels so gross after being sick, he needs a very thorough shower. He moves to get up, and Missouri tucks a helpful hand under his elbow as he stands, “You lost a lot of water weight,” she tells him, “blood pressure’s pretty low too. Also, you just look like hell, so prepare to feel pretty crappy for the next couple of days.”

He sighs, “Thanks.”

Nodding she leads him to the door, hesitating before she opens it, “Don’t forget what we talked about last night.”

Dean stares up at her, digging through a haze of feverish memory to their conversation about Castiel. He still isn’t sure, what if she’s wrong and Cas is just misunderstood or something? But then again, what if she’s right and Dean is smart to steer clear of him?

“Yeah.” he mutters half-heartedly, “I remember.” She purses her lips disbelievingly, but opens the door to reveal Bobby standing outside expectantly.

“Jesus kid,” he says, wide-eyed, “you look like hell. What, have you got like 1% body fat or something?”

“Robert,” Missouri chides, “the kids got the immune system of a baby squirrel, go easy.”

“Thanks,” Dean’s face sours at her words, and she sighs,

“Just being honest bub. Hope to see you again?”

“What a terrible thing to say as an infirmary worker.”

“And a counselor,” she reminds him pointedly, “Always welcome. I think Al might appreciate some company at times.”

Dean’s brows shoot up at these words, but he doesn’t have time for a response because Bobby grabs his arm and begins toting him down the hall while Missouri closes and locks her door.

“Your cellmate is the most annoying kid on the planet,” Bobby says matter-of-factly as they make their way towards Dean’s cell.

“Oh yeah?” Dean inquires casually as they reach the cell, and Bobby allows him to dig through his toiletries, “Why’s that?”

“Kept begging one of the guards to go into the infirmary to check on you. Eventually I humored him because he was keeping the other inmates up complaining about it all night. You were sound asleep, but I uh,” Bobby chuckles and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “decided to mess with him. I told him you looked real bad. Okay, well it’s actually true but I made it sound bad.”

Dean grimaces as they begin walking back down the hall towards the bathrooms, “You’re allowed to do that?”

Bobby sighs, “Man you kids are _"products of the system"_ , nobody cares about your feelings. Me and the guards had a good laugh about it. He was so upset, big scary Castiel got all worked up and flustered over this 90 pound new kid.”

“Worked up?” Dean asks nervously, “how so?”

“Surprisingly,” Bobby says thoughtfully, “he didn’t get violent. We kind of expected that, he’s had issues with violent outbursts in the past. Not over other inmates, usually he could care less. Kid doesn’t have feelings, so we thought.” he shakes his head and eyes Dean as they enter the bathroom, “But when I told him you weren’t doing so good? You’d think he’d lost his grandma or something, the kid was fucked. Sitting on the bed praying, clutching that cross like some kind of nutjob.”

Dean shudders, “Why was he doing that?”

“Don’t you guys have a thing?”

Dean freezes halfway through removing his shirt at the shower stall. It’s a little awkward stripping in front of Bobby, but the guy seems more interested in Dean’s personal life than his freckles, so he doesn’t mind it so much.

“No we don’t...have a thing.” Dean responds, starting up the shower head and scrubbing down his overused body, wondering why the staff here is so damn nosy, “We’re friends.”

“Looked a little more than friendly to me kid.”

“I’ve known him a week,” Dean detests, rinsing out his disgusting mouth, “There’s nothing more going on.”

“Then that kid is seriously disturbed,” Bobby reconsiders, “Or he’s in love with you.”

“Is this really appropriate conversation between a guard and inmate?” Dean demands, “especially while I’m naked?”

Bobby shrugs, “Job gets boring sometimes. Inmate chatter is the closest thing I get to _Gossip Girl_.”

“Incredible,” Dean mutters, “who cares about our safety? Lets discuss _who’s fucking who_.”

“So you’re fucking him?”

“Bobby!”

“You did not deny it.”

Dean bites his tongue, rolling his eyes and focusing on his shower. How had he landed himself in the most unprofessional juvenile facility known to man?

**

Luckily Dean finishes washing up just as lunch started, and Bobby brings him to the cafeteria. He can’t remember the last time he ate anything and kept it down, and while his stomach is still growling in hunger, the thought of food makes him feel a little overwhelmed. He’s never had a big appetite to begin with, but after losing the contents of his gut for 12 relentless hours, food isn’t the most appealing thing to him. He knows Missouri said he lost a lot of water weight and his blood pressure is low, which probably means he should eat, but he just leaves Bobby’s side to go sit across the room at an empty table.

“Hey brother, wait!”

He turns at the sound of the voice, quirking an eyebrow up. Benny, Kevin and Garth are seated at a table, food in front of them, beckoning him over. He hesitates, and slowly begins to walk towards them, “Yes?”

“C’mon brother, sit down.” Benny gestures for him to sit, and Dean does so cautiously. Where’s Castiel? Is he watching? Why isn’t he approaching Dean? Why can’t Dean see him?

_Stop thinking about him._

“Why the change of heart?” Dean inquires, quirking an eyebrow up dubiously.

Kevin interjects, “It was uncool of us to just ditch you because we were freaked about the Alastair thing. If you want, we’d like to hangout with you again.”

Dean fidgets, he’s still annoyed that they were so spineless, but he decides to let it go because he really needs friends in this place, “Sure.”

“Great brother,” Benny pats his bicep and eyes the empty space in front of him, “No dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Dean admits, “I was sick yesterday.”

“Eesh, sick here? Bet that was awful.”

“It was.”

“That sucks brother. Wish I’d known, I would’ve come visit.”

_No you wouldn’t have_ , Dean thinks, _you’re not my friends_.

_Castiel visited me_.

Dean shakes his head to clear it and forces out a smile, “Thanks Benny.”

Benny doesn’t reply, and Dean catches him glancing over Dean’s shoulder at someone, eyes locked on something. Dean turns his head and follows Benny’s gaze, to where Alastair is seated at one of the tables behind them. He’s giving Benny a pointed, threatening look. Al catches Dean’s eye and grins, winking. Perturbed, Dean turns back to face Benny, who swallows hard and says, “So, you and Alastair are good now?”

“Huh?”

“Look Dean,” Kevin cuts him off, not one to beat around the bush, “Alastair came up to us and threatened us. He said if we didn’t let you sit with us he’d…” he shudders. Dean cranes his neck to give Al a _‘what?_ ’ look, and the other boy simply shrugs his shoulders and continues talking to Crowley.

Dean rubs his face, why the fuck is everyone here so confusing?


	9. Adjust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (just to be thorough): some homophobia/sexism, mentions of past physical/drug abuse, general mature content. 
> 
> This chapter was a blast to write.
> 
> Please enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Dean heads back to his cell after dinner, glancing nervously around him. He knows he’ll have to face Castiel eventually, but he wants to get back to the cell early, give himself a little time to prepare. He almost gets there too.

But then, there’s a demanding hand on his bicep, and he’s being thrown against a wall, his body pressed against the plaster by a much bigger one. He looks into swirling cerulean eyes, and swallows, “Cas let me go.”

Castiel, forearm against Dean’s throat, shakes his head, “Why didn’t you let me in?”

“Cas,” Dean repeats cautiously, ignoring the terror and arousal coursing through his body, “Let me go.”

“Tell me why!” Cas demands, jaw locking.

“I didn’t want to see you,” Dean snaps, “You know that.”

Cas stares at him for a moment, “Why not? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” Dean exclaims, “Castiel, _friends_ don’t sexually assault each other!”

“You wanted it.”

“Don’t tell me what I want! You were punishing me! Friends don’t fucking do that.”

Cas’ expression softens a bit, but he makes no move to release Dean from his death grip, “You look ill.”

Dean would throw his hands up in exasperation if he wasn’t trapped under Castiel’s weight, “No shit.”

Cas hesitates, and then releases Dean. Dean lands primly on his toes, rubbing at his sore neck, there’s probably going to be a mark there later; he bruises like a banana. “You are so...fragile,” Cas says after a moment.

“Thanks,” Dean replies sourly, “you’re _really_ making me want to forgive you.”

Cas rubs his forehead stressfully. Oh nice, _he’s_ stressed, “Look Dean, I’m sorry. I-” he curses softly under his breath and continues, “I shouldn’t have done that to you. I am sorry, okay?”

It sounds sincere enough, despite his reluctance to actually say it. Still, Dean’s not too certain if he even wants to forgive Castiel. Maybe he should just try to avoid him? But...he doesn’t want to do that either.

“I need a little time to myself Cas,” Dean insists, “just...please leave me alone for a little while.”

Cas clenches his jaw, “I don’t want to.”

“Well deal with it!” Dean hisseS, “Just because you’re big and scary doesn’t mean you always get your way.”

Cas crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes and for a second Dean is afraid the guy’s gonna deck him. Dean’s certainly got a habit of pissing off the people with the most power over him.

But then, Cas just sighs and says, “Whatever Newbie.” and struts down the hallway with his shoulders squared and his head high.

Well, at least they’re back to the friendly nicknames.

Dean continues his trek down the hall towards their cell, pleased to be getting a little peace and quiet. He passes Dr. Moseley’s office, glancing sideways as he does so, and stopping at what he sees. The door is cracked slightly so he can just barely peer in the side. Missouri is leaning over a kid with sandy blonde hair, giving him a cup of something unfamiliar and a handful of pills. The boy takes them all individually, then downs the milky white liquid in the cup, before shuddering and hugging his arms around him.

“You’ll be alright dear,” Missouri promises the boy, patting his ratty hair comfortingly, “you’re improving already.”

“I-I can’t do it anymore,” Dean’s eyes widen as he recognizes Alastair’s voice responding, “I need it!”

“Al no,” Missouri scolds in response, “Drugs are an escape, you’re only going to ruin things for yourself. No going back remember? You turn eighteen next year, you get out of here in six more months. You got a chance boy.”

“No I don’t!” he growls back, “ain’t nobody gonna hire a drug addict criminal fresh out of juvie! I’m gonna end up on the streets and then right back there, in that fucking house with _her_.”

“Alright alright shh,” she soothes calmly, “don’t get all worked up now.”

“I can’t go back,” his reply comes in the form of a wet sob, “I can’t go back.”

He begins rocking back and forth, his body shuddering with every word. Dean watches with sick fascination as Missouri sits beside him on one of the cots, putting her arm around him comfortingly and allowing him to rock rhythmically, chanting, “I can’t go back...I can’t go back Missouri...I’ll die.” “You’re not goin’ back dear,” she promises assuredly, “you’ll never have to go back there.” Then, her voice calls out a little louder, “Dean boy I know you’re standing there! Get your butt in here.”

He hesitates, body going rigid with her recognition. Then, he gives up and slowly crosses the distance, entering the infirmary and shutting the door completely behind him. He steps through the doorway of the cot room and faces Missouri and the sobbing Al.

“Uh, I don’t think he wants me in here,” Dean manages, feeling like he’s interrupting something very intimate.

“Well it isn’t like you didn’t just hear everything,” Missouri rolls her eyes, “Sit down Dean.”

Dean isn’t sure why she’s making him participate in this creepy, depressing therapy session, but he sits down nonetheless. Al avoids his gaze, trembling and wiping at his moist red eyes like that’ll stop the weeping coming from his throat. The guy sure does cry a lot for someone who beats up innocent new inmates. As Dean watches him, he begins to realize maybe there’s a lot more to Alastair’s behavior than Dean originally thought.

Dean doesn’t know where this kid comes from, he could’ve been born in a war zone. Maybe he’s not a psycho maniac jackass, maybe he’s just a kid who grew up in a fucked up place and escaped reality by taking drugs. Maybe it’s not Al’s fault he’s here, not really anyway, maybe he’s just another kid who’s suffering for his parent’s mistakes. And that’s all he is, a kid. Sometimes, being here, seeing the way these inmates behave, Dean forgets that they’re all just kids. People their age are sitting in a classroom right now, complaining about homework and pop quizzes. People their age are buying tickets to prom and homecoming, shopping for dresses and whining about the price of corsages. All while the kids in here, kids the same age, sleep in cells and have to fight for survival.

Maybe some of them are in here for a good reason, maybe they are honest-to-god criminals and they deserve all the harsh punishment they get. Maybe some brought it on themselves -cough cough, _Dean_.- But maybe…a lot of this could be avoided if some of them were cared for. Maybe, if Al’s parents had told him they loved him he wouldn’t have needed to feel it from a drug. Maybe if Jo’s mom had been open with her and let her be herself, she wouldn’t feel so trapped that she had to steal makeup. Maybe whatever Cas did to get stuck in here, wasn’t his fault at all. Maybe it really was his dad.

Maybe Dean needs to talk to Cas. Tell him that he's forgiven.

“Dean? Are you listenin’ boy?” Missouri demands, crossing her arms and looking at Dean expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says quickly, rising to his feet, “I really have to go.”

“Wait,” Al grabs Dean’s wrist as he’s heading for the door, looking up at him through his now dry eyes.

“Uh yeah?”

Al hesitates, “I’m sorry that I beat you up.”

Dean stares at him, not wanting to forgive him -because his ribs _still_ hurt- but also needing to get out and talk to his cellmate, “Okay. Why’d you change your mind about me?”

Al glances at Missouri, then back to Dean reluctantly, “You’re rooming with that Castiel kid.” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you already have.”

Dean bites his tongue to keep the snarky remark from slipping out, and says, “Great.”

Then, he ducks out the door and begins shuffling down the hallway. A lot of the inmates have returned to their cells, and Dean hopes Cas is there already so he can talk things out. Tell Cas he forgives him; he’s not ready to let Cas go. He reaches the cell, Bobby lets him in and locks the door behind him. Cas is already in bed, curled sideways towards the wall, snoring loudly. Cas is guilty of snoring, if anything. Dean sighs as he changes into his pajamas and climbs beneath the covers; he’ll just have to talk to Cas tomorrow.

 

-" _Morning mom! Merry Christmas!"_

_"Heya Dean, hey Sammy. How'd my babies sleep?"_

_Dean giggles as his mom ruffles his two-year-old brother's hair, "Mommy he can't talk yet."_

_Mary grins down at her son, scooping him up and hugging him to her side as she leads Sam with her hand into the living room, "Well you're certainly right sweetie, but he will soon."_

_"I can't wait for Sammy to talk!" Dean insists, "Then he'll get my jokes."_

_Mary laughs melodically as they arrive in front of the Christmas tree, decorated sloppily by Dean's four year old hands; uneven lights, half-dangling homemade ornaments, and a sideways angel placed at the top. John had offered to let Dean do the whole thing by himself, and of course he jumped at the chance._

_"The tree looks amazing son," John says kindly as Mary sets Sam down on his father's lap, "Next year maybe Sammy'll be able to help."_

_Dean beams at the thought of decorating the tree with his little brother, "I hope so!"_

_Slowly, Mary begins to pass out the gifts. Dean gets the most extensive pile, seeing as he's the only one who's really at the right age for Christmas, and Sam just ends up chewing on the toy truck he's given. Everything goes well, until Mary hands Dean the last present._

_"Santa saw you looking at this, at the store." she tells him, handing him the box carefully, "He knows how excited you were to see it."_

_Excitedly, Dean rips the wrapping paper away to reveal the Beach Barbie doll he'd so longingly admired in the shelves at Walmart, but decided not to ask for when his friend had called it a 'girls toy', "Whoa. Thank you mommy!"_

_"Mary," John's voice is suddenly curt, and Dean and Mary both look up at him, "What's this?"_

_Mary gives her husband a tight-lipped smile, "Santa brought Dean a gift John, it's called Christmas."_

_John gives his wife a pointed look, "I think he mixed them up, because that is a present for a little girl."_

_Mary gets to her feet, "May I speak with you in the kitchen?"_

_John shoots Dean an unreadable glance, but follows Mary out of the room._

_Dean barely notices what happens afterwards, he's too preoccupied playing with the awesome new stuff he'd been gifted generously by both his parents, and the acclaimed Santa Claus. But, his head snaps up as his parents enter again, and John holds his hand out for the Barbie._

_"Give me that son."_

_Hesitant, Dean passes the doll over. John looks Dean right in the eye, and snaps the doll in half, much to his son's horror._

_"These are for girls Dean," John specifies clearly, "we do not play with them. Do not ever let me find you doing something that is for girls. You understand?"_

_"...Yes daddy."_

_"Good. Go ahead and play with the BB gun I got you. Let me show you how it works."_

_-_

“Newbie! Newbie get up get up!”

“Huh?” Dean slurs groggily, shooting up and swiping away the crust around his eyes to face Castiel, “whas goin’non?!”

“Get up lazy! Quick! Get dressed, you’ve got to come outside!”

There’s something strange in Cas’ tone, something innocent, like the excited squeal of a school boy on a snow day. Grudgingly, Dean rises from the bed and swiftly changes his jumpsuit, trying not to notice that Cas stops his excited jubilance to watch him change. When he finishes, Cas grabs his wrist and begins tugging him through the hallway, following a slew of other sleepy inmates as they squeeze through the huge back doors all at once, forgetting about breakfast which will be cold by the time they return. Dean notices as he and Cas arrive outside, that guards are handing out jackets to the inmates. Then, he observes that something is hitting his face. And finally, it registers that it’s snowing.

The first snowfall of winter, a sign of progression, new beginnings, and most of all, Christmas.

Dean gratefully takes a jacket, pulling it on over his shoulders as the bite of winter nips across his cheekbones. Cas grins, opting out of the coat and bending down to scoop a handful of snow and balls it up in his bare hands, throwing it at Jo’s back. Jo whirls around, zeroing her eyes in on him.

“Oh you’re in for it Novak!” she warns, as she too scoops up a snowball and throws it with deadly precision. It hits Cas square in the chest, and he gropes at his heart like he’s been shot.

“I’m hit!” Cas cries dramatically, falling to his knees, “Newbie, avenge me!”

Dean’s not sure what the hell is going on, or why the other inmates are happily joining in with the stupid snowball fight, but he decides to play along. He grabs his own snowball, aiming for Jo. He swings and the white, wet powder slaps against her forehead.

“Headshot!” Cas bellows, jumping to his feet and crying, “Anarchy!”

All at once Dean’s pelted with a barrage of snowballs from inmates he doesn’t even know. Laughter, shouting and lighthearted cursing fills the air as the kids swarm around, nailing each other with icy cold snow and jumping around like idiots. He sees out of his peripheral vision as Benny and Kevin begin double-teaming Garth, who hides behind his sock puppet like it’s a lifeline. Jo and Cas are in a one-on-one heated battle, narrowed eyes and serious expressions. Dean even sees Al and Crowley playing, hitting people with snow, hitting eachother with snow, even getting one of the guards and playing innocent. Dean hasn’t had a snowball fight in years...and he also hasn’t had this much fun in years. He doesn’t care that he’s covered in snow and water and frozen down to his gut, he doesn’t care that he’s locked in a juvenile facility with the most nuts roommate a person could ever ask for, for the moment, everything is amazing. Cas grabs his upper arm and they duck behind the picnic table Dean’s come to know as ‘theirs.'

“Sneak attack,” Cas informs him seriously, “I move left, you move right, and we strike Jo and Kevin while they’re preoccupied with Benny.”

Dean nods, more than happy to forget his anger and join the fun, “On my count?”

“Sure, but just one thing before we go.”

“Yeah?”

Cas leans over and mashes his lips against Dean’s. They’re ice cold and smooth like a popsicle, his breath smelling of chilled mint and apples. This kiss is much different than the one they’d shared before, there’s no trace of desperation or anger in it. Its a gentle, tender, chaste kiss that has Dean aching for more. This is Castiel’s way of apologizing; sinking the depth of his remorse into the most incredible form of affection Dean’s ever recieved. And Dean forgets about Castiel's sempiternal ability to mess with his wayward emotions. All of his energy and focus, is on matching his lips to the movement of Castiel's.  

“Aha!” They break away from the kiss as Jo and Kevin stand over them, snowballs at the ready, “You let your guard down idiots!” As they reign down with their snowballs, Dean doesn’t even care that he gets covered in snow, all he can think about is Castiel’s lips, and the euphoria that engrossed him from the sincerity of the other boy's mouth.

“Damn it!” Cas curses, springing to his feet, “You’re working with them aren’t you Dean? You sent him with me to distract me!”

“Hell yeah!” Dean grins, hopping up to join the winning team, “Let’s get him!”


	10. A Little Bit Of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS (definitely necessary) sexual and physical abuse/ food mentions/ child abuse/ self hatred.  
> it gets pretty dark, so please prepare and try not to attack me if you're upset, if I don't properly warn for the content please let me know in a kind way and I'll add more warnings! Thanks :)
> 
> Very anxious and excited for your responses to seeing more into Castiel...
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! :)

Unfortunately, the snowball fight comes to an end as the guards begin ushering the inmates back inside for lunch. Dean and the other kids strip out of their jackets, tossing them towards the staff who are collecting them.

Cas throws his arm around Dean’s shaking shoulders as they enter, “Damn Newbie, you’re freezing.”

“You didn’t even have a jacket on and you’re fine,” Dean complains, “I’m probably going to get a nasty friggin cold.”

“Aw,” Jo coos teasingly as she walks in behind them, shaking snow out of her wet hair, “Look at the prison husbands.”

“Shut it Jo or you won’t be my maid of honor,” Cas threatens with a wink.

“Fuck,” she slaps her palm over her mouth and mutters something unintelligible, before cutting in front of Kevin in the line. He grins at her like a loyal puppy, and doesn’t seem to mind.

“Sorry,” Cas mutters to Dean as they walk to line together, arm still around the taller boy, “I can ask her to cool it with comments like that.”

Dean arches an eyebrow; whatever it is about the snow makes Cas very...normal. He wonders if this is what Cas was like before juvy. He likes it a lot.

“Nah it’s okay. Given the fact that we just exchanged saliva I think she has the right to gloat.”

Cas smiles, that genuine, innocent smile he so rarely gets that makes Dean’s heart flutter out of pace and his knees feel like jello. He watches as Cas’ thick arm slides away from his shoulders to grab a tray of food, seeing each long, bony finger as it curls around the tray and imagining it inside him.

Christ. He really likes Cas, doesn’t he?

Well, no denying it at this point, the guy’s already fingered his ass and rubbed his cock. He might as well just admit it; there’s nothing straight about that behavior. Maybe he’ll write an eloquent speech or something to explain to Cas the way he feels.

“Newbie? You hungry?”

“I’m gay.”

Cas’ head does a 360 spin and he quirks an eyebrow up quizzically at Dean, “Uh...okay? Not really the answer to my question you know.”

Dean’s face flushes a brilliant crimson red, cursing his idiotic mouth, and he chokes out, “that’s now how it was supposed to come out.”

Cas chuckles, grabbing an extra tray for Dean, “Not like I didn’t already know. Although I suspected you might be bisexual?”

“No. No Cas. I’m gay.”

Cas’ mouth pulls up in the corner as his knowing eyes settle on Dean’s face, “How’s that feel? To say it?”

Dean purses his lips, considering this as they move to a vacant table and sit across from each other, “I don’t feel any different.”

Cas laughs, “You’re a dork. You’re not any different, still the same Dean.”

Dean smiles lightly, surprised at how true Cas’ words are, “Guess not.”

“Here,” Cas passes him the tray of food and begins to eat his own, beckoning for their friends to join them. Jo, Kevin, Benny, Garth and a few other people Dean doesn’t recognize swarm around and sit down at the table. Sitting there, across from Cas in a midst of people talking and laughing, Dean feels like he’s back in school. Cas keeps shooting seclusive smiles at him while the others chatter, and it makes Dean’s face feel warm. He wonders how things can possibly feel so...normal. But, he supposes that’s what happens, right? You get used to it eventually, and it becomes life. He’s been here a little over a week and already this place is starting to feel familiar. Maybe by the time his eighteen months are over, he won’t want to leave. Okay, that’s taking it pretty far, but he still doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’s going to miss Cas like hell, and will his dad even want him at home anymore? He’ll be 17 by then, he’s pretty sure his dad won’t have any reservations about kicking him out.

“Hey Newbie, you haven’t touched your food.”

Dean shakes out of his stupor and realizes he hasn’t actually eaten since Tuesday, and it’s Friday now. He should’ve started eating again after getting over his sickness, but he’d made the mistake of putting it off and now he’s got a complete lack of appetite.

“Not hungry,” he admits lamely, although he figures he probably should eat.

Cas arches an eyebrow dubiously, “well I don’t care bean pole, you need to eat.”

“Bean pole?”

“Dean, eat.”

Dean nods, poking at his mac n’ cheese reluctantly, and bringing a bite to his lips. Once he takes a few bites, it gets easier, and he manages to eat most of it. He tries not to be flattered by the proud look Cas gives him.

~

 

Sometimes, Castiel has nightmares.

Some of the time they’re nonsensical; blurred and speedy visions of horror creatures from scary movies in his past. He hasn’t had one in three weeks, so he’s been sleeping alright. But there’s the all-too-often occasion, where images of his parents overwhelm his dreams. His father with a kitchen knife and a candle lighter, pulling off his clerical robes and whispering, “Do this for me Castiel. God wants this.”

Cas would fight him off at first, screaming at the top of his lungs and begging for one of his older brothers or his mom to come home and do something, anything. His father, Pastor Novak, would make Castiel touch him. He would touch Cas right back, no matter how Cas cried and begged him not to. He'd run his fingers along Cas' skinny chest, plucking up Castiel's gold cross necklace, running it between his thumb and index finger sensually. He'd murmur soft prayers over Castiel's naked, trembling body, as if blessing the sacrilegious acts he prepared to commit. If Cas resisted too harshly, he’d be punished, hence the lighter and knife.

“Such a pretty boy,” his father would whisper, “my pretty little Castiel..”

Eventually, this became normal. That’s not to say that Cas enjoyed it or thought it was right, but somewhere along the line he detached. It became easier to just let his father carry on with his fucked up ways than to keep fighting. It grew too hard, Cas wasn’t strong enough. He was all alone anyway, who even cared? When he took the fall for his father’s crimes, he knew he’d be escaping the clutches of an evil man.

“Castiel,” Pastor Novak would moan roughly as he stroked his thumbs across his son’s forehead in the shape of a cross, finding erotisism in an act that should be holy.

“Cas...Cas...little Cas…”

“Cas? Cas? Cas!”

Castiel’s body jolts up, a sheen of sweat coating his face and neck as he sucks in a gulp of air and his eyes dart around. Dean. He’s not there; he’s not home. He’s not sleeping on the floor to avoid climbing into the very bed where his childhood horrors occurred; he’s comfortable in a twin cot that hundreds of others have slept in.

“Cas what is it?” Pale light from the bedside lamp casts over Dean’s tanned face; his freckles stark against the sunkissed skin. His olive eyes are wide, brows arched up in a concerned expression.

“Cas say something,” Dean demands in that petulant, sassy voice that Cas has grown to both resent and relish in.

“Sorry,” he manages, blinking sleep away from his eyes and swallowing the lump in his throat, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

 _Get it fucking together Castiel. Not in front of Dean_.

Dean eyes him dubiously, “Bad dream?”

Cas runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, “Uh, kinda.”

Dean ponders this, and then without asking permission, pulls himself up on the top bunk besides Cas. How bold of him.

“What are you doing?” Cas inquires, more shaken from the dream than he’d like to admit.

“Scooch over,” Dean demands, sliding under the blanket beside Cas and curling around him.

Cas finds himself laughing, “Are you spooning me Newbie?”

“Tryin’ to, don’t make me regret it.”

Cas rolls over, twisting Dean’s thin body around so it’s Castiel whose arms are around his waist and Dean who’s embraced, “I’m the big spoon.”

Dean laughs breathlessly, “you’re strong.”

 _No I’m not. I’m weak. I’m pathetic and worthless_.

“So what was it about?” Dean whispers, clicking off the lamp as he settles into the crook of Cas’ chest.

“The dream?”

“Mhm.”

Cas runs his fingers through the fine hairs on Dean’s neck, finding comfort in the soft little fuzzy locks. Dean smells like generic facility soap, but also faintly of green apples. Cas doesn’t know where that comes from, maybe it’s his natural smell, but it’s fantastic. Dean’s skin is warm to the touch, the bony curves of his elbows and knuckles a little cooler than the rest. Cas’ fingers rove from Dean’s hair down his side and tuck Dean tighter against his body.

“Nothing important.” he lies softly.

“You sure?” Dean murmurs; his voice is a sleepy lull.

“Yeah Newbie, don’t worry about it. Get some sleep huh?”

“This is nice,” Dean admits quietly, “You being so…”

“Not fucked up?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

_Yes it is. I am fucked up. I’m so fucked. I’ll never be normal, why do I even try?_

“So what happens now?” Cas asks softly, his breath washing over Dean’s neck and making the other boy shiver.

“Dunno Cas. I guess just roll with it.”

_What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you want to fuck me or not? Why else would you come up here and cuddle with me? That's all I'm good for Dean, why don't you just touch me already?_

 “Okay…”

When Dean makes no move to mount Cas and attempt to ride his cock, Cas leans over to get a look at the boy’s face. Dean’s sound asleep, a light snore puffing out of his cute little nose every few seconds. He looks so at ease; face serene without it’s usual stressed, confused expression. His plump little lips pull down in a pout -just like when he’s awake- his ridiculously long eyelashes brushing his freckled cheeks as they flutter sweetly. Cas has never seen anyone so beautiful; so innocent yet so harrowed by experience. Dean is both newborn and a million years old. He’s a stark contrast of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow. He is thousands of things all at once, a whirlwind of passion and tranquility. Intelligent and idiotic, complex and yet so simple. Dean is everything.

Cas scoots a little tighter, clutching his everything tight and not releasing him until he falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

The next morning, Cas awakens to an empty bed. He feels around in the sheets for the heat of Dean’s body, but is greeted by only cool, crisp bedspreads. He realized it was a mistake.

_What were you thinking Castiel? Like he’d ever fucking want you._

“Down here Cas,” comes Dean’s voice from beside the bottom bunk.

Cas leans over, quirking an eyebrow up at the fully-dressed boy in front of him, “Morning.”

“I was gonna wake you up, but you looked peaceful. It’s visiting day today…”

Cas lets out a little half-sigh and sits up, hopping off the bed and landing on the balls of his feet beside Dean, “Your mom’s here?”

Dean nods, buttoning up his jumpsuit and biting his lip, “Your family?”

“Not coming anymore.”

“I’m sor-”

Cas cuts his words off with a quick, frantic kiss. It’s just supposed to shut him up, but Dean deepens the kiss, looping his fingers bravely in the waistband of Cas’ pants. Well, admitting he’s gay certainly did wonders for his confidence, didn’t it?

Dean’s mouth leaves Castiel’s after a few heated, passionate seconds, “You don’t even have morning breath. Amazing.”

Cas chokes out a laugh, as Dean’s hands slide out from his pajama pants and return to his own pockets, “What can I say? I’m perfect.”

_Bullshit you ass, you’re garbage._

Dean waits patiently for Cas to get dressed and even goes to the bathroom with him to brush his teeth. Cas assumes this is because Dean feels bad for him; his family is no longer going to be visiting, so Cas will spend the first few hours of the day sulking around with Jo and Benny in the rec room, probably watching Flubber for the ten thousandth time. As they walk down the hall towards the visitors room, Dean peaks in, “It’s just my mom. Dad and Sammy didn’t come.”

“Your dad seems like a jackass anyway,” Cas mutters, crossing his arms, “you deserve better.”

Dean rolls his eyes, something Cas has noticed he does when complimented. Cas bites his lip, wondering where Dean’s self-deprecating attitude came from. Perhaps from his father’s treatment, or maybe it’s been internalized from day one.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dean promises, looking hesitant to leave Cas alone, as if he hasn’t survived the past four years here on his own.

“Have a good visit Newbie.” Cas leans up, kisses Dean’s forehead, and starts back towards the rec room. Maybe today he’ll change the movie. He enters the recreation room and spots Jo, Benny and Garth sitting on one of the plush couches. They’re watching Flubber again, but none of them are even paying attention. Cas starts forward, but is pulled back by a strong hand. Whirling on his heels he bares his fist at the perpetrator, coming face-to-face with Alastair.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cas demands, “I should knock your teeth out for touching me.”

God, Cas hates threatening people. But Alastair? Especially after what he did to Dean, is fucking easy to threaten. Cas loves scaring this asshole.

“I just wanna talk,” Al responds in a low voice, “about Dean.”

Cas’ brows pull down, “I’m not going to talk about Dean with you.”

“I don’t think you should hangout with him. It’s not good for him.”

Cas’ jaw practically unhinges, “ _You?_ The guy who cracked his ribs and fucked up his face, don’t think _I_ should be around him? That’s a joke Alastair.”

“Look, maybe I kicked his ass, but at least I’m up front about it. Don’t fool that kid into thinking you give a shit about him. He don’t deserve that.”

“What makes you so sure that I don’t give a shit about him?” Cas demands, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin menacingly.

“Because you’re fucking Castiel,” Al snarls back, “you and him are different. He’s innocent man, you’re...you’ve got a lot more fucked up shit under your belt. You’re gonna poison that kid, he’ll never get out of here.”

Cas glances towards the door of the visiting room, eyes trailing to the separating glass window. Dean is sitting across from his mom, they’re smiling and laughing, holding hands. She reaches across the table and touches his face lovingly, a gesture that had a much different context in Castiel’s childhood. Cas grimaces and turns back to Al,

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, shithead.”

_He’s right Cas, you’re fucked up. You’re going to hurt Dean, you know it. Everyone knows it. Even Dean’s enemy knows it._

“I’m not gonna do anything bad to the kid.”

_You’re going to ruin his life._

“I protect him, from jerks like you, so back off douchepants.”

_Just because you quote him on his unorthodox attempts at insults doesn’t mean you’re fooling anyone._

Al crosses his arms, “Just know, there are other people watching out for him too.”

The meth head turns on his feet and stalks across the room, back to where his gross posse is starting up a card game.

 _Listen to that jerk-off, don’t hurt Dean. Dean didn’t do anything_.

“I’m not gonna do anything.” Cas mutters under his breath, moving to a vacant loveseat to skulk.

As he waits for Dean to finish up his visit, he keeps replaying Al’s words in his head, wondering how much truth is really in them. He looks towards the window that leads outside; the snow is falling hard now, becoming hail. It slaps against the windows, melting down the side like teardrops.

Cas pulls one of the couch cushions up against chest and hugs it tight, biting his lip and avoiding the world around him. He hums  _Nirvana_ quietly in his head, trying to escape his own thoughts.

_You're only gonna hurt him Castiel. That's all you do._

_You try and you fail._

"Not this time," he whispers like a total nutjob, "not this time."


	11. The Satirical Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: NSFW, allusions to sexual/physical abuse/self hatred. Mature general content of course, please read carefully.
> 
> I just want to say thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos :) Means a lot and reading and responding to comments improves my day! <3
> 
> Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts.

It gets hard on occasion, acting like nothing is wrong. Castiel has mastered the art of deception; the forced smile and eerie, confident attitude that mold his utterly imperceptible feelings into a false front of pleasantry. He’s had to adapt, to learn how to function as normally as he can with his experiences hanging on his shoulders, dragging him down with every step. It’s never been easy, it’s a constant battle upwards, a pressure inside his gut that fights against everything in his mind. His feelings are multifaceted, and yet he must pretend as if he’s a clock. Simple wires and springs must be pulled in order for him to work, he is simple, he is malleable. Of course this isn’t true; he’s complex, he’s an intricate design of an endless amount of emotion and triggers, but nobody can know that. He must, as always, fake it.

When he sees Dean’s face, this becomes slightly easier.

It’s not that Dean makes him feel simple; the boy only stirs up more jumbled confusion within his mind. But being around Dean, makes the smile feel genuine. It makes the jokes funny, sincere. It makes the confidence slightly more believable. The past two weeks have been, to say the least, interesting. Castiel never expected a “prison relationship” if that’s what this is. He isn’t sure. He nor Dean have expressed explicitly what they plan on being called, they just, as Dean put it “roll with it.” It’s definitely more than friendship; there are late night kisses and hands brushing along the most intimate of skin, accompanied by midnight whispers of affection and constant codependency. But neither of them have decided to put a name on what they have. Tonight, Dean seems more comfortable than usual.

“So that night…” Dean murmurs, rolling over in the bunk to face Castiel, “the night that we…”

_The night I fucking destroyed everything?_

“The night we were intimate.” Cas supplies in response to Dean’s lack of words.

“Until the uh...end, it was nice. Really nice.”

Cas cocks an eyebrow, a small smile forming on his lips, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” Dean picks at the fabric of the blanket on the bottom bunk, biting his lip, “I don’t know if you were enjoying it as much as me, but I-” he sighs softly and looks into Castiel’s eyes, like the gaze will supplement description.

“I understand,” Cas murmurs.

_Don’t fuck him Cas, don’t fuck him. You don’t want to fuck him. Everyone you fuck ends up hurt._

“I’d like to do it again,” he lies, running a sensual finger down Dean’s arm.

Dean smiles, and leans in, placing a soft, tender kiss against Cas’ mouth. Cas gripes at his waist, pressing their chests together as he deepens the kiss and forms his lips around Dean’s. Dean’s breath is hot, his exhales quick and frantic. Cas feels his heart through the white pajama T, Dean’s heartbeat is rapid and short, like a small animal’s.

“You got lube or something?” Dean pants, peeling his shirt off to expose his skinny, heated chest.

Cas nods, “Vaseline okay?”

“Sure.”

Cas leans into the bedside cupboard, pulling out the small bottle of vaseline he’d gotten at commissary, popping the cap open. It’s almost empty, he uses it for things other than sexual lubrication of course. He’ll have to swing by commissary and buy another jar, he assumes they’ll need it.

“You nervous?” Cas asks him gruffly, tearing away at his own shirt and leaning down to trail soft, moist kisses along Dean’s body.

_Bend over, hide the scar. It’s hideous. You’re a monster._

Dean’s answer comes out in the form of a moan, “no.”

_You should be._

“Good.”

He reaches over and palms Dean through his gray sweats. The younger boy’s face contorts into the cutest little “o” and Cas finds himself chuckling at Dean’s utter inexperience. Slowly, Cas slides Dean’s pants down his legs, making sure the pads of his index fingers brush against Dean’s tanned skin. The slimmer boy writhes beneath Castiel’s teasing touch, gnawing on his bottom lip in a way that makes the blood rush to Cas’ head. Dean’s body is hot, he’s always particularly warm, but arousal flushes his skin into a balmy blanket. Dean surprises Cas by reaching towards him and trailing his fingers along Castiel’s waistline. His index and middle finger pick at the band around his pants, slowly tugging it down.

_‘Daddy please...don’t touch me there...please.’_

Cas smacks his hand away, startling him. Castiel licks his lips, “Hold still.” he whispers roughly, as he removes his own pants and boxers so Dean doesn’t have to.

_‘God wants this Castiel, put your hand right here.That’s right son, perfect.’_

The cross is ice cold around Cas’ sweaty neck as he dips two fingers in the vaseline and slides them into Dean’s entrance.

_‘What are you crying for boy? C’mon little Cas, muster a smile for your daddy.’_

Dean’s moan breaks through the air, low and rusty. His eyes squeeze shut, and short little breaths puff out through his perfectly sculpted lips, his body shivering with the ecstasy Castiel’s experienced fingers can bring. Silently, Cas rolls Dean on his stomach, slipping his fingers out and quickly popping them back in with a faster motion. Dean grunts, rocking his perky little ass back against Castiel’s hand, who kneads one of his ass cheeks with a free hand. Dean lets out a little yelp when Cas spanks him, but it melts into a pleasured sigh, and he moans in encouragement. Still pumping two fingers in Dean’s tight, pink hole, Cas slaps his ass a few more times, feeling the sight of it stiffening his cock.

“Are you ready?” Cas asks gruffly, feeling Dean stretching comfortably around his fingers.

Dean nods, burying his face in a pillow and lifting his hand-printed ass high in the air, “fuck me Castiel.”

Cas makes sure both his dick and Dean’s entrance are slick enough as not to cause Dean too much discomfort, and he gradually begins to enter. To his credit, Dean only grunts with displeasure twice, which for someone who’s never had anything more than fingers in their ass, is impressive. He takes almost all of Cas’ dick, letting out little whooshes of breath that are clearly pleasant.

_‘Doesn’t this feel good little Cas? Daddy’s fingers all over you?’_

Cas begins to plunge himself into Dean, back and forth robotically. Each forward thrust visibly weakens Dean’s knees, but he keeps his ass up in the air like Castiel’s good little slut.

_‘Look at you, daddy’s little whore. You’re filthy.’_

Cas lets out a noise that’s in between a groan and a whimper, sinking himself deeper and harder into Dean’s flesh, feeling every inch of the green-eyed boy’s sensitive skin around his cock.

“Are you okay?” Dean pants, head still down.

Cas blinks away the wetness in his eyes and roughly responds, “Yes. You?”

“Amazing,” Dean whispers back, gripping the sheets as Cas hits deep, shooting boughs of electricity through both of their bodies.

_‘Don’t push me away you ungrateful child! You let daddy touch you, or you’re going to pay!’_

The next few minutes are stocked with thick panting, whispered curses and groans, and the collision of sweat-slicked bodies. Dean finishes first, stimulated both by Castiel’s hand stroking down his cock, and the rough pounding of his vestal ass. Then, Cas jerks out, whips Dean on his back, and cums hard across his stomach.

_‘That’s what I thought. Good boy. This is what you’re good for. This is your purpose.’_

After a few moments of silent fixated stares, Dean manages, “wow.”

“Wow.” Cas agrees softly.

“That was...awesome.” Dean laughs a little, “best first time I could’ve asked for.”

“In a juvy cell,” Cas manages with a weak smile, “romantic.”

“With you?” Dean shakes his head, “Man you could make death romantic.”

“Romeo and Juliet already did that,” Cas points out, getting off of Dean so he can wipe off.

Dean climbs out of bed shakily and cleans himself up, “I am _not_ going to take the time to explain to you why Romeo and Juliet is a satire. But,” he climbs back into bed, kissing Cas’ cheek warmly, “It’s definitely not romantic.”

Cas chuckles, flopping down beside Dean’s naked body and spooning up against him, “Whatever you say is fact to me.”

“You’re cute.”

“I must be.”

Dean smiles, but grows serious moments after, “Hey...Cas?”

“Yeah Newbie?”

“Can I….that scar on your stomach...what happened?”

 _Nice going Castiel you fucking idiot, Dean thinks you’re disgusting. Filthy. Worthless_.

“It’s nothing Newbie,” Cas promises, kissing Dean’s neck sweetly in the hopes it will distract him, “there’s some stuff we don’t need to know about each other.”

“Great,” Dean mutters sarcastically, “we just had sex and I don’t even know your middle name.”

Cas laughs, “That’d be Jeremiah.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Castiel Jeremiah Novak. Huh. I like that.”

“And yours?”

“Henry, after my grandfather.”

“Dean Henry Winchester. Cute.”

“Glad we got that out of the way,” Dean says with a yawn, “now I don’t feel as guilty.”

Cas frowns, “why would you feel guilty?”

 _Because he just fucked a huge, filthy slut_.

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you. We’ve been doing this….thing for a few weeks now, but I mean, we don’t know each other.”

Cas gnaws on his lip, “Well I don’t see why that matters so much Newbie, we know each other. You’re Dean, you’re 16 years old, you steal to feel alive, you have an asshole dad, a nice kid brother and a good mom. You get sick from being in the same damn room as a germ, and your middle name is Henry.”

“I don’t steal to-” he sighs softly, turning to face Cas. Castiel finds himself admiring the way Dean’s eyelashes cast shadows on his freckled cheeks, how they flutter and frame his jade eyes like perfectly matched drapes. The dim light of their bedside lamp makes his sunkissed skin luminous, “Cas, when you touch me, I _do_ feel alive.”

_‘Feels so good when you touch me little Cas...’_

“Really?” Cas stammers out, voice wavering more than he’d like, “I do that for you?”

“Everyone thinks you’re this big scary criminal,” Dean licks his mouth and says, “I did too at first, but being here is making me learn that sometimes this can be avoided with love. I don’t know where you come from, but it must not be very nice. Because you’re not a criminal Cas. You...you scare me sometimes, but you’re not bad.”

_You’re wrong Dean, I am bad. I’m garbage._

“Besides,” Dean continues as if he’s afraid Cas will try to stop him, “not everyone would’ve come to my defense when Al threatened me on the first day, or defend Jo’s gender identity, or take the fall for a crime they didn’t commit.”

Cas stiffens, and refrains from strangling Dean. He wishes he would stop bringing that up, but it’s not like Cas can punish him. Not anymore. He’s in too deep to want to do anything but care for Dean.

“And I know it’s kind of nuts to say this Cas, when I’ve known you for barely a month, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

_Fuck Dean, why would you say that?_

“What?”

“Think I kinda love you Cas,” Dean repeats slowly, eyeing Cas as if he expects rejection.

“Why are you saying that?” Cas demands, genuinely puzzled.

“What do you mean _why_?”

_Because I’m not worth shit, why would anyone want to give me affection?_

When Cas says nothing, Dean swallows hard, “Do you not feel the same?”

 _C’mon Cas, don’t reciprocate the love. It will only make it harder when things crash apart_.

“I do.”

 _Fucking idiot. You’re both going to end up destroyed_.

 _Shut up_ , Cas thinks, _I want this._

_Your selfishness ruins everything Cas._

“I’m scared,” Dean admits, looking down shamefully.

“Of what?” Cas inquires, running a hand across Dean’s cheek soothingly.

“What’s going to happen when you turn eighteen. You're gonna age out...go to actual prison."

Cas nods, biting his lip, “My birthday is in February.”

Dean’s breath catches, “that’s- that’s two months from now.”

Cas clenches his jaw, “I’m sorry Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, “I don’t want to think about it.”

Cas nods and smiles, “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Right. You too.” Dean leans over the side of the bed and tugs his pants on, handing Cas’ pair to him. Cas slides them on over his legs, and hugs Dean a little tighter against his scarred chest.

-

Dean awakens with an eyeful of Castiel’s scar.

His face is buried into the thicker boy’s chest, it’s so warm and soft in there, perfect for sleeping. This place has the lamest heater on Earth, and since December has just begun, each night gets colder and colder. He stares at Cas’ marred flesh, wondering what had happened to create such an eyesore. Perhaps a fight with another inmate, or a really fucked up home experience, or maybe he escaped a fire or something. Either way, it’s pretty gruesome, and must’ve hurt like a bitch. Dean settles a little tighter into the crook of Cas’ chest, thinking about last night’s events. So Cas had fucked him, nice and hard and fulfilling. Then, like the idiot Dean is, he’d accidentally spilled the fact that he’s starting to fucking love his terrifying cellmate more than he should. Dean wonders if it took Cas so long to respond because he was reluctant about his affections, or because the feelings were unrequited completely and he had to lie.

Either way, it didn’t do much good for Dean’s self esteem. But, despite however Cas feels about Dean, he still manages to alight a fire inside him that only one other thing can do. When Cas’ hands rove over Dean’s flesh, his adrenaline bursts with electricity and his entire body seizes up with life. He’s long since forgotten the lonely droll of what sex used to be, after one night with Cas, he’s reimagined coitus in a way that makes his teeth chatter and his knees shaky. Dean hopes the sex was as excellent for Cas as it was for Dean -who discovered last night he’s got a real thing for spanking and being dominated- but either way he didn’t show.

Cas almost seemed to shut down during the sex, like he was focusing on following through with a task rather than enjoying something for himself. Maybe he’s over analyzing things and making mountains out of molehills. He thinks Ms. Missouri was wrong, Cas isn’t crazy. He’s just...eccentric. He’s several different layers of emotion, scary just happens to be the outer layer. Cas rolls back in bed, mumbling in his sleep. Dean’s noticed he does this sometimes. In between obnoxious snores -which Dean finds endearing as hell- the bigger boy tends to grumble things in his sleep. Usually it’s unintelligible, but every so often Dean will get lucky and hear actual phrases.

“no…” Cas is whispering weakly, his dry lips forming feebly over the words, “please…”

Dean frowns, Cas must be having another nightmare. He hasn’t had one since the first time Dean noticed it, but his expression is troubled, and a sheen of sweat collects at his hairline. Dean wonders if he should wake him up like he did last time. He knows it’s bad to wake up people who are having nightmares, and he and Cas don’t even have to be awake for at least another hour, but he can’t stand seeing that look on Castiel’s face. He’s normally so in control, so confident and eerie, but when he has these nightmares, his face contorts into the truth: fear.

Suddenly, Cas’ body jerks up into a sitting position, eyes wide as he cries out, “stop!”

Dean looks up at him, a little startled, “Cas?”

“Sorry,” Cas pants after getting his bearings, swallowing hard, “b-bad dream.”

“Are you okay?” Cas glances down at him, shivering like Dean was the star of his nightmare or something. He looks traumatized, as if he and Dean have traded personalities, and now Cas is the feeble one.

“Come here,” Dean encourages, pulling Cas back into a sleeping position and hugging his arms around Cas’ waist, “don’t think about it.”

Cas nods, breathing hard and relaxing into Dean’s touch as his hands thumb through the fine hairs on Dean’s neck.

“You need a haircut,” Cas whispers softly.

Dean chuckles, “I do.”

“We should ask Jo today,” Cas suggests, his voice steadying, “she’s great with a pair of scissors.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean promises, smiling up at Cas, who offers a weak smile in return.

Maybe this is what needs to happen; simple comfort and small talk. Maybe this is what Cas needs when things go badly in his mind, a little bit of normality to offset the insanity. Dean doesn’t know if this can work in the long run, ultimately it just covers up the issue and avoids dealing with things, but that seems to be how they roll. Until things change, Dean will make Cas happy by helping him forget. It’s all he can offer, a little amnesia-based serenity.

Who knows? It might be good for both of them.


	12. Cat's in the Cradle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse of a minor. General mature content, please read with discretion. :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support! <3 <3
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

 

 

“Winchester! Novak! Visitors!"

Frowning, Cas hops down from the top bunk towards the open door of his and Dean’s cell. Dean’s halfway out the doorway, and Mr. Singer is staring expectantly at the both of them.

“I’m staying in today,” Cas explains to the guard, sniffing, “Dean gave me his cold.”

Dean smiles apologetically, and Cas blows him a kiss to remind him it’s okay.

“Forget it kid,” Singer shakes his head, “Got family visiting today. Throw on a jumpsuit and you two get your lily white asses down there.”

“That’s impossible,” Cas argues, getting a little irritated with this guard’s definite false information, “My family doesn’t visit anymore.”

“It’s not those snotty brothers, it’s the pastor.”

Cas freezes, entire body going rigid. The blood in his veins runs ice cold, sending a shudder dancing across his spine. Dean’s smile widens, “Your dad? That’s great Cas.”

_Yeah Dean it’s fucking fantastic! Haven’t seen him in four years, let’s see if he can keep his hands off my dick!_

“Yeah.” Cas says through the bile in his throat, “Awesome.”

“Well get dressed and we can go.” Dean encourages, stepping outside as Cas robotically strips out of his pajamas and into his beige jumpsuit.

“I have to brush my teeth,” Cas says as he follows Dean and Singer down the hall.

“Stop procrastinating,” Singer rolls his eyes, “do it when you’re done.”

The hallway stretches for miles when Cas wants to get to breakfast. It’s endless when he’s going to see Dean. It takes ten years to cross this hall when it’s taco night. Today, the hallway ends abruptly, putting Cas exactly where he doesn’t want to be.

Dean puts his hand on the doorknob separating them from the visiting room, and Cas says, “Wait.”

Dean turns towards him, cocking an eyebrow curiously, “Yeah Cas?”

“I don’t want to get him sick,” Cas insists lamely.

Dean frowns, “Why the hell are you stalling?”

Cas shakes it off, sighing heavily, “I- I’m not. Let’s go.”

_Alright Cas, you can do this. Just man up. Go in there, don’t take any shit. It’ll be over before you know it._

His shoes cross the threshold, and then Dean leaves his side. He sees the other boy join his mother at a table near the back, and Cas has never felt more vulnerable.

“Castiel?”

Rigidly, Cas whirls his body sideways towards the sound of the eerily familiar voice. When he looks at the man, every construct of confidence and toughness that Cas has acquired vanishes. His walls crumble down, crashing at his feet, pieces of brick colliding with the linoleum. His skin is peeled away, and every pair of eyes in the room peers inside him like human x-ray machines.

_Oh god, that’s him._

“Castiel,” Pastor Novak repeats, rising from his seat, “is that you son?”

“No,” Castiel snaps back, crossing his beefy arms, “It’s the fucking Spice Girls, _tell me what you really really want._ ”

_Very clever Cas, way to burn him._

Pastor Novak’s brows pull up comically, “Such language from a child of God?”

“Please dad, be modest, you’re just a pastor.”

“What is this?” he orders, “sit down and speak to me.”

Despite every bone in his body begging him to inch away from the older man, Castiel steps forward and sits across from his father. Arms still crossed, resting bitch face plastered on. It’s the only way he’ll get through this.

“So?” Cas demands, “Did you come for a reason or did you plan to sit and stare like a fucking corpse?” His father looks appalled. Ha! He’s appalled. That’s rich.

“Castiel, what’s happened to you? Last I saw you...you were my little boy. Look at you now, grown like a weed! Is that facial hair?”

Cas runs a hand across the small stubble forming on his jaw. He’d been pretty damn proud of it, especially when Dean had observed it the other morning, saying, “ _I’m digging the rugged look Cas._ ”

“Yes,” he says, and then lies, “I haven’t gotten the chance to shave yet.”

He’s never shaved in his life. But, he his dad has to see that Cas doesn’t need him. He’s just fine on his own. He’s a man, not some freaky pervert’s little bitch.

“You look handsome,” Pastor Novak says sincerely, “so much like your mother.”

Cas’ teeth grind together, “you’ve got a lot of nerve you fucking prick.”

The pastor sighs, running a hand through his thinning dark hair. Cas observes some gray in it that wasn’t there the last time he and his father interacted.

“Son, you must know, I’ve recanted.” he shakes his head, “I’ve been forgiven for my sins. The things I did to you as a child did not go unpunished.”

“Oh _really_?” Cas spits, sitting up to face his father head-on, “You’ve been forgiven have you? By _who_?”

“The lord of course,” his father replies matter-of-factly, “I confessed, I lost you as punishment.”

Cas is so furious he can’t even begin to explain to his father how fucking stupid he sounds.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Cas growls, forcing himself to keep his voice down, “he doesn’t _get_ to forgive you! You didn’t fucking _molest_ him-”

“Language Castiel.”

“Fuck you! _I’m_ the one who says whether or not you’re forgiven. And guess what you sick fuck? You’re _not_. You’re a monster. Oh, and by the way douchepants, _you’re_ the reason I’m here.”

The pastor shakes his head, dumbfounded, “What did you call me?”

Cas’ teeth grind audibly, “Douche. Pants.”

 _You really need a new comeback Cas, damn_.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“And I thought Rose and Jack were gonna survive Titanic. Life’s full of disappointment you fucking pedophile.”

“Stop calling me that,” the pastor snipes, “I’m a man of God, I will not be spoken to with such vulgarity.”

“Wanna know what’s vulgar? Touching and abusing your kid. That’ll buy you an eternity downstairs won’t it dad?”

Pastor Novak gasps and crosses himself, “You dare speak of Hell to me you criminal?”

Cas laughs bitterly, “Hey dad, I think you’re forgetting, _you’re_ the criminal. I didn’t take all that money from the church, you did. I didn’t abuse my kid, you did. I didn’t betray my church and my faith, you did. Which one of us is really going to spend eternity up on cupcake cloud?”

“Excuse me?”

Cas scratches his neck, “It’s- uh, that’s what I call heaven.”

“You are still a child in many ways Castiel,” the pastor says anxiously, “Despite your....disturbingly filled out physique. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why did you come here?” Cas inquires, “what do you want?”

“I wanted to see my son...and your brothers told me your appeal hearing went well. They told me that you said you didn’t commit the crime.”

“So you’re here to tell me to keep my mouth shut?”

“I needn't worry about that Castiel, what evidence have you got? Stealing money from your church and using it for your own personal needs is a very serious crime, especially in our hometown. You really think they’re gonna believe the pastor did it?”

“Gotta give it to you dad,” Cas snaps, “that’s vindictive.”

“It’s the truth Castiel. I couldn’t get you out if I tried.”

“Not that you’d try.”

“I’m very disappointed in you son,” Pastor Novak says sadly, as if he’s lost a nice pair of boots, “This place has changed you. You’ve lost sight of your faith.”

“No,” Cas shakes his head, “I haven’t lost my faith at all dad, I love God. You know what I’ve lost?” he leans forward a little, making his words as venomous as he can manage, “Lost my fucking loyalty to you. I lost that scared little boy who’d bend over backwards for you, maybe even literally.”

_No you haven’t, you’re still that weak, pathetic little boy. You’re terrified. No one’s buying this._

The pastor clears his throat, and rises, “I think this was a mistake.”

“Really?” Cas laughs, voice laced with sarcasm, “because you’ve been the pinnacle of good decisions in the past!”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be returning.”

“Is that a promise?”

Pastor Novak hesitates, “Don’t you miss me?”

Cas gets to his feet, squaring his shoulders, pleased that in the past four years he’s grown an inch taller than his father, “Not a fucking bit.”

“Well,” the pastor quips, “I better be leaving then. I’ll see you when they transfer you to state prison.”

“Have fun in Hell, bastard.”

Pastor Novak ignores this as he kindly thanks a guard and steps out. Cas curses softly, ignoring the accusatory eyes of some of the visitors and pushing through the door that leads to the rec room.

-

Cas is moody when Dean enters the rec room after visitation. He’s kind of confused; he’d thought Cas seeing his dad might make him happy. Maybe his dad is confessing to his crime or something? Well, if the visit went well, Cas isn’t showing it. Dean enters the room and finds Cas and Jo on the couch, grumbling petulantly to each other. Smiling and feeling pleased with the visit from his mom, Dean plops down beside Cas.

“Hey guys,” he says when there’s a break in the conversation.

“Hey Dean,” Jo greets him kindly. Cas says nothing.

Dean frowns a little, searching Castiel’s stupid unreadable expression for something that will explain his behavior. It’s not like Cas is gonna start opening up and talking about it himself, even after being together for almost three weeks, the two of them haven’t really gotten their ability to talk in order. Still, Cas hasn’t been this way in a while. Things have been pretty smooth. Romantic, sweet, sexy even. Calm and normal….yep, that’s how Dean is describing his gay prison relationship.

Jesus, how is this his life?

Rec time passes slowly, Dean and Cas don’t talk much. Dean doesn’t like it; it reminds him of his first few days here. He’d never felt so alone. Recently, he’s been feeling so content. Cas makes him feel so good, like he’s perfect in every way. Dean feels wanted, and right, and pleasant. There’s never been anyone who can make Dean love himself the way Cas can.

They walk to dinner together, and instead of sitting with friends as usual, Cas leans over and says to Dean, “I’m going to go to bed early.”

Dean pauses with his tray, “You don’t want to eat?”

“No.”

“Hey, Cas wait a sec.” Dean reaches out, grabbing at his wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” Cas shouts, yanking his hand away from Dean and stepping back. Dean’s jaw drops, and he stumbles back, more freaked out than he’d like to admit.

Cas glances around at a few surprised faces, and mutters, “Sorry Dean.” before turning on his heel and skulking away out of the cafeteria.

Dean stares after him, a complex mixture of emotions curling around in his brain.

“I thought so.”

Dean spins around to face Alastair, who continues talking, “guy’s no good. You guys have been getting chummy. But c’mon Eyelashes, he don’t care.”

Dean scowls, “I thought you and I were friends?”

“We are pal, that’s why I’m saying this.”

“He had a bad day,” Dean mutters, tucking his tray against his scrawny chest, “he’ll cool down.”

“He seems a little tempermental for you don’t you think? I mean, you’re all of fifty pounds. Aren’t you worried he’ll bend you over his knee and snap you in half or something?”

“Al, I appreciate the concern, but stop talking maybe?”

“Wanna sit with us tonight?”

Dean sighs, it’s not like his night is going anywhere else, “Alright. Make Crowley promise not to split my lip.”

Al chuckles, “Scouts honor.”

Dean follows his -God help him- _friend_ over to the table and sits down. The table is crowded with big, sweaty jerks who are all cursing and laughing and making dirty jokes about women. Damn, how does Al put up with these jerks?

“What’s up cunt munchers?” Al greets them, and belches.

Oh, that’s how.

Dean sighs again and eats his food unenthusiastically; tonight’s gonna be a long, long night.


	13. Unlocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of sexual/physical abuse/ self hatred and other mature content.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, and sorry for the weak length of this chapter. I'm on vacation so it's kinda hard to post. 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts :)
> 
> (I'm so happy with this character development tbh)

Dean enters the cell cautiously, hoping not to upset Castiel even more. He sees a lump under the blanket of the top bunk, and hesitates.

“Cas?” he asks softly.

The lump rolls and Cas pops out from under the blanket. His brilliant azure eyes are red-rimmed and watery, his pallor face and pink nose indicating to Dean that he’s been crying. He’ll admit: he’s surprised. He’d never expect Cas to be a crier. Dean cries sometimes, a lot less in the recent weeks with Cas, but Castiel is usually so poised.

“Hey Newbie,” he says quickly, wiping under his eyes and blinking rapidly, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s fine,” Dean assures him, climbing halfway up the ladder to the top bunk, “Talk to me Cas, what’s wrong?”

“I really can’t.”

“Cas,” Dean insists, “You can trust me. Who am I going to tell anyway?”

“It’s not just that,” Cas shudders, sniffling both from his cold and his tears, “I don’t even think I can say the words.”

Dean climbs up on the bunk and sits cross-legged, facing him, “C’mon Cas. I love you.”

Cas chuckles weakly, scratching his neck, “I love you too.” he admits, “that’s why I don’t want to tell you things.”

“That’s why you _need_ to tell me things,” Dean urges, and places his hand comfortingly on Cas’ knee. Cas flinches away from the tender gesture, a tremble shooting up his body visibly. Dean tucks his hand against his chest, shocked by his reaction.

“Why do you always do that?” he demands.

“Do what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you never let me touch you.”

Cas grimaces at Dean’s phrasing, and says, “It’s not about you Dean.”

“It’s not good to keep stuff bottled up,” Dean chides, “believe me, I’d know. What’s bothering you tonight?”

“I saw my dad today.”

“Yes. You two obviously don’t get along.”

Cas shudders again, licking his lips and managing, “Understatement Dean. We once were very...close.”

Dean’s brows turn down curiously, “So what happened? You two drifted apart or something?”

“That’s not exactly what I meant by close….”

Cas is silent for a moment, giving Dean time to process this. Dean’s frown deepens as he tries to understand what Cas means.

Realization hits him in the face like a brick, “Oh are you saying that he.. _.did stuff_ to you?”

Cas closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath through his nostrils, lips pressing together in a tight line. He pops one eye open after a second, like he’s surprised that Dean is still there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean whispers roughly, “I’m not leaving.”

This seems significant to Castiel. He lets out a trembling breath and roughly responds, “If I didn’t comply he would...hurt me.”

“That scar on your belly,” Dean murmurs, “He...he did it?”

“Most of the injuries healed easily, but...that was a bad day. He lit a candle...and he burned me. I remember screaming,” Cas swallows hard, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing, “I rememb er screaming so loud I thought my lungs would burst. It hurt like nothing else had ever hurt. I'd broken an arm, I'd gotten my tonsels out, hell I'd been hit with a baseball bat. But nothing felt that way. He didn’t stop though…” Cas reaches down to the hem of his pajama shirt and pushes it up, revealing the gruesome scar, “I was just a kid...I was maybe nine?”

Dean leans forward and runs two tentative fingers down the length of the scar. Cas shudders, his tough skin shaking beneath Dean’s hand. Dean moves a little closer, pressing soft kisses on Cas’ marred flesh, cool breath washing over Castiel’s sweaty stomach. A noise that sounds somewhat like a whimper echoes from Cas’ throat, and Dean lifts his lips to Castiel’s face.

Cas grabs Dean around the waist and tucks him tight against him, “You’re still here.” he whispers, as if confirming it.

“Right here Cas,” Dean replies, interlacing his fingers with Castiel’s, “I love you.”

“You don’t know how much it means,” Cas manages, “that you’re still…”

“I love you. Keep going Cas. I’m listening.”

“Nobody ever found out, what he was doing to me.” Cas continues, biting down hard on his lower lip and shaking his head, “I was alone..I was so alone. I’d go to school, not talk to anyone, come home..and he’d be waiting. My brothers were older...they weren’t around much, and my mom was constantly working. He’d tell me it’s what God wanted, that I was doing him a favor. He said he loved me but…” Cas’ lips tremble and his eyes are watery, “that isn’t love Newbie.”

“No it’s not,” Dean agrees softly, tightening his grip on Cas’ hand, “That ain’t love Cas.”

“This is love,” Cas murmurs, looking down at his and Dean’s hands, “me being able to...to tell you this stuff. That’s love, right Dean? Is it love?”

“I don’t know what love is Cas,” Dean admits, “but...I think it’s something special that you and I have. I think this...right now, whether it’s love or not, is important.”

“I love you,” Cas says surely, “I know that much.”

“I love you too.”

“So...when I was twelve my mom passed away. She committed suicide after she found out what my dad was doing to me. I don’t think it was his fault really, she always had shit going on. At work all day listening to other people’s issues..had to weigh on her. I don’t think she realized that when she died...she left me even more alone with him.” he rubs at his eyes sloppily and continues, “it got worse. I was getting older, my body was becoming more...sexy. I was only thirteen but, fuck Dean, that was grown up to him. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do it anymore. My brother gabriel, he found out that my dad had been stealing money from our church. I knew it was perfect...I could get away from my dad. So, I turned myself in for the crime. Said I did it to help with my family’s money problems. My dad played the part, acting disappointed and saying he’d pray for my forgiveness. Everything went perfectly.”

Dean grimaces; the thought of Castiel suffering through all of this, especially at such a young age is mortifying. He can now see why Cas is so fucked up, he understands the motives behind Cas’ behavior.

“Castiel that’s fucking awful,” Dean says in horror, “we- I can’t...how are you going to let him get away with this?”

“I have no choice,” Cas says softly, “I’m already here. No one will believe me now.”

Dean bites his lip, “My mom knows a lawyer. A good one, what if I-”

“No!” Cas’ grip on him tightens and his eyes widen seriously, “You can’t do that, please! Promise me- promise me you won’t do anything?”

“But why?” Dean demands, “why don’t you want anyone to know what he did?”

“Because!” Cas groans, “Just-just listen to me. Okay? No one can know...just don’t tell anyone. I fucking trusted you with this Newbie, don’t turn around and fuck me over. Please.”

“Okay okay,” Dean says so he’ll stop freaking out, “I won’t do anything.”

Cas relaxes a little, sighing gently, “Alright, okay. Yeah...okay.”

Dean rubs his thumb along Cas’ hand, which is clutching his with an iron grip, “Are you okay?”

Cas nods wearily, “Can’t believe I just told you all that.” he manages with a nervous laugh.

Dean smiles slightly, “Me either, but I’m glad you did. Love you Cas.”

Cas pulls Dean a little closer so their bodies are just as tight as their hands, “I love you too. More than you know.”

Dean cuddles up closer to his...christ, his _boyfriend_ , and allows himself to be soothed into sleep.

-

Cas wakes up comfortable.

It had taken him a while to fall asleep, despite the warm comfort of Dean’s nimble body beside him. He’d been processing things; had he actually spilled his guts to Dean? Why hadn’t Dean totally bailed? Did Dean mean it when he said he wouldn’t do anything? Did Dean really still love him? Eventually his brain had gotten too exhausted with these thoughts, and he’d conked out.

The sleep, however restless, was uneventful. No nightmares. No images of his family, no horrors of his past, not even a self-deprecating string of thoughts before he finally went under. Just Dean, and sleep. Something Cas could get used to. When the guards begin to shout for the inmates to awaken, Cas is hardly even tired. He blinks sleep away and looks down at Dean’s freckled face. His dark lashes brush the freckles as he slowly begins to open his viridescent eyes. His pink, plump lips curl up in a little smile as he glances at Cas.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Dean greets him, “you were out like a light. Not even snoring.”

Cas arches an eyebrow,” Me? Not snoring? I really must’ve been out.”

“I like it when you snore,” Dean admits, “puts me to sleep. It’s relaxing.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas asks, ignoring his disbelief that Dean could like _anything_ about him.

Dean nods, putting his palm over Cas’ heart, “I put my head right here, I can hear your heartbeat and your chest rumbling under me. It’s relaxing. Kinda like how people listen to nature sounds when they go to sleep. Your body is my nature sounds.” Cas chuckles deep in his throat and Dean smiles, patting his chest, “there it is, that rumble. You’re a brick house.”

Cas laughs loudly this time, “That makes no sense.”

“Hush,” Dean says, moving his other hand up to stroke the prickly stubble on Cas’ jaw, “This I like too. Very nice.”

A grin makes it’s way across Castiel’s face, and he tsks, “What _don’t_ you like?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but as soon as he says it he’s worried about Dean’s response. 

_Everything Cas. How could he like things about you?_

“Nothing,” Dean answers, “I like it all.”

He plants a chaste kiss on Cas’ forehead, “I like these eyes. These beautiful blue eyes.”

“Stop,” Cas insists, face burning.

Dean giggles, “And your lips.” he kisses Cas once and sighs, “perfect. Not to mention, those teeth. How on Earth you keep them in such good condition while in prison, is beyond me. So straight too, you ever have braces?”

“No,” Cas replies, cheeks still hot with embarrassment from Dean’s praise.

“Let’s talk about your _body_ ,” Dean marvels, eyes twinkling, “you make me look like the ugly girl at the prom, god.”

“No,” Cas repeats, leaning in to kiss Dean slowly, “you’re gorgeous.”

Dean chuckles, “Oh yeah? Why don’t we stay in the cell today? You can prove it.”

Cas grins, and as he leans in to stroke his hand up Dean’s thigh, his father’s voice doesn’t invade his thoughts. As he slowly takes Dean in his arms, and rocks their bodies together gently, he hears nothing except the broken moans and pants coming from Dean. His own thoughts don’t sweep over him as he enters Dean, grunting and gasping with pleasure. His head, for once in his fucking life, is empty of anything except honest joy. Each breath he takes expels anxiety and nervousness, being replaced with ecstasy and euphoria. He doesn’t feel guilty either, about enjoying it. He deserves this. He deserves Dean. Dean makes him feel so worthwhile. Even if it’s short-lived, Castiel’s time with Dean is the best he’s ever had.

How the Hell is he going to leave him?


	14. Mouth Vs. Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Sorry for the wait, I was on vacation :) Promise to get the updates back on track
> 
> WARNING: homophobia/blood mention/self hatred/mentions of sexual and physical abuse/ general mature content
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

_“Hey, smear the queer!”_

_Dean’s lungs burn as he sprints away from the screams. His legs feel like rubber, but he pursues the sidewalk ahead of him, trying to escape the pack of guys behind him. Fucking James, big-mouthed jackass. He’d had to tell his friend about the kiss with Dean, who in turn told his friend, and news travels pretty fucking fast in middle school. His sneaker catches on the curb as he crosses the street, sending him sailing forward. His face smashes into the ground and he feels a spurt of blood tint his face red. Scrambling to his feet frantically, his head whirs and Dean struggles to get his bearings. Before he can rush forward, someone grabs his upper arm. His head whips sideways, and he stares in shock._

_“Hey Newbie.”_

_This is not what happened. This is wrong._

_“Cas? What are you doing here?”_

_Cas looks so beautiful; he’s dressed neatly in a pair of black pleated pants and a tight-fitting white button down. His brilliant azure eyes are glimmering with the golden rays of sun that shine through the trees. His cross glitters brightly around his tanned neck, and his smile is so genuine and handsome that Dean’s knees feel weak._

_“Just got out of juvie,” Cas says proudly, although he looks more like a college-graduate than a teenage delinquent, “my dad was prosecuted, he’s in jail. I’m free.”_ _A little laugh slips out of his perfectly molded lips, and the air around his usually stormy expression is light and happy and everything Dean wishes upon Castiel._

_Dean wipes the blood away from his chin and manages a smile, “Cas...that’s awesome!”_

_He’s still confused as to what Cas is doing here, since if he remembers correctly, those guys caught up to him and beat the snot out of him a little less severely than Alastair had, but he decides not to question it. Cas hadn’t been there to defend him before, maybe he can be now. “_

_I guess that’s why I’m here,” Cas explains, gesturing around, “in your dreams, or memories. Just popped in to tell you something.”_

_“Yeah Cas what is it?”_

_“I never really loved you,” he tells Dean, smiling as though he’d just told a joke, “I was just using you to get myself out. Because I didn’t commit a crime, but you did. You’re the criminal here, ha, not me. But you and your mommy got me that excellent lawyer, and here I am, free while you’re still locked up and all alone.”_

_Dean stares, dumbfounded and wordless, so Cas continues, “Nothing to say?”_

_His demeanor changes considerably, switching from lighthearted to belligerent in an instant, “what? You thought I could ever really love you? That’s funny Dean, because you’re nothing. Just a dirty little pickpocket, not really worthy of my time, you know? It’s kinda sad that you came out because of me, cause now you’re out forever. No take backs buddy.”_

_“No…” Dean shakes his head frantically, “No...I trust you. You love me. I love you.”_

_“Dean, please, I’ve known you for a month. I don’t love you. And you don’t know what love is you idiot, how could anyone ever love you?”_

_“I…” Dean’s head is whirling, his thoughts intangible tornadoes trying to escape, “Cas…?”_

_“I’m not even really into dudes,” Cas says, picking at his perfect teeth absently, “I mean, my dad fucked with me for years, why would I like guys after that? Especially you, I mean you’re cute, but you could stand to gain some weight, you know? Or some muscle, god you’re like a friggen twig. Every time we hugged I thought I’d break you. That’d suck, without you I’d still be locked up.”_

_“How can you say that?” Dean’s voice breaks on the last word, and although he intends to stand strong, his entire body is quivering, “you..how could you...but we-”_

_“Look Dean, I’d love to continue this little chat, but I have a life to live, and it appears I’ve interrupted something.” Cas steps back and snaps his fingers. Dean’s head snaps sideways as he sees the pack of boys chasing him, they near closer, and Cas says, “enjoy this Dean, believe it or not, this is your last taste of freedom.”_

“Dean, fuck, _Dean_!”

Something sharp zings across Dean’s face, and he jerks upwards, gasping and wheezing. His watery eyes blur the sights around him, but he briefly observes Castiel sitting upright at his side, a panicked expression on his face. Dean touches a hand to his stinging cheek and says in the stupidest, weakest voice possible, “Did you slap me?”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Cas swallows hard, eyes wide and more innocent than Dean’s ever seen, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I was afraid the asbestos in this place had killed you or something, I don’t know! You were barely breathing- you scared the shit out of me.”

Dean inhales deeply as reality settles around his shoulders. He touches his face; injury free. He reaches out in the dim light and grabs at Castiel’s hand, which wraps around his with intense ferocity.

“Dean?”

“Sorry.” Dean whispers quietly, “I-” he looks down, unable to even look Cas in the eye after the dream, “nightmare.”

“God, what is it with us?” Cas murmurs good-naturedly, “we get those a lot. Guess that happens when you’re fucked up.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as the tears he’d tried to quell slip out and roll down his hot cheeks. He prays that Cas can’t see them in the dark, but when has praying ever helped Dean?

“Whoa, Newbie.” Cas’ thumb brushes across Dean’s cheek to clear away some of the moisture, “you’re crying.” he says stupidly, “what was that dream about?”

Dean shakes his head, and can’t help the small, wet sob that claws it’s way out of his throat. Cas takes a deep breath and says, “Dean... please talk to me.”

Cas has been very serious about Dean talking to him since last Saturday when he spilled the beans about his father. It’s Friday night, and he’s still relentless about Dean returning the favor. Cas insists on an open relationship, no secrets, no hiding. So far, Dean’s been pretty compliant. He’s talked about his parents shitty marriage, his dad’s more douchey qualities, even the intense shower experience he’d had with Ricky. But some things, he just can’t spit out.

“Just...a scary dream.” he says truthfully, scrubbing at his eyes, “Do you love me Cas?”

Cas’ stares at Dean with an unsure expression, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just fucking answer me Cas.”

“Of course I love you Dean. What is this about?”

Dean hooks his arms around Castiel’s neck and pulls their bodies against one another. Cas’ cool breath washes over Dean’s sweat-slicked bare back, which feels so incredibly good that Dean leans in even closer. Their bare chests press together, and Dean can feel the small indentation of Castiel’s scar against his flesh. It makes him want to keep crying, but he sniffles once and pulls it together for both of their sakes.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks quietly, eyeing Dean like he might explode any second. Dean nods, “Y-yeah...I think I just need more sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean smiles a little at the concern, flattered, “Yeah Cas, thank you.”

“I love you Dean.” Cas responds seriously, as if reaffirming it for himself.

“Love you too Cas.”

Cas nods a few times, then pulls Dean into proper spooning position. He nestles his pin-straight nose in the crook of Dean’s neck and murmurs, “You always smell so excellent.”

Dean lets out a breathless, miniscule chuckle, “Thanks.”

“You’ll feel better when you see your mom tomorrow,” Cas assures him quietly, “she’ll know how to cheer you up.”

 _Yeah_ , Dean thinks, _after I tell her to hire a lawyer for you and ruin our relationship._

“Yeah,” Dean says softly, “I’ll feel much better.”

-

Dean dreads waking up the next morning. But the prospect of seeing his mother’s familiar face is too fucking inviting to ignore. Slowly, he and Cas untangle themselves and climb out of bed, yawning and stretching like alley cats. They take their time getting ready, Dean taking extra care to thoroughly wash his face and hands after showering. Cas stares at him funny while he does so, but Dean waves off his concern by saying, “I am _not_ getting sick again.”

Finally, the two of them are dressed in their usual attire -being a plain beige jumpsuit- and they head down to the visitation room. Dean’s hesitant, and they stand awkwardly outside the door.

“Newbie look at me,” Cas says, grabbing Dean’s arm roughly, so they’re facing each other, “Something is wrong with you.”

“I’m fine.” Dean insists, finding it incredibly hard to lie to Castiel’s earnest face, “Really. I’ll be fine. I am fine. I- ugh, I love you.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow up quizzically, “Are you sick? What’s the disease that makes you go nuts?”

“Um...dementia?”

Cas palms Dean’s forehead contemplatively, “Newbie are you dimentia-d?”

Dean snorts and bats Cas’ hand away, “no Cas, I’m fine. Look, I’ll meet you back at the rec room in a little while?”

“Alright, have a good visit Dean.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

They lean in for a swift kiss, and part ways. Dean enters the visitation room and sucks in a desperately needed gulp of air, before spotting his mom across the room. She’s lovely as usual; golden curls piled high on her head, effortlessly gleaming smile plastered on sincerely, loving gleam in her eyes that makes Dean want to tell all his secrets. He steps forward and before he knows it, he’s sitting across from her, “Mom.”

“Hey honey,” She leans across the table, smiling sweetly, “How are you?”

Dean can’t help but smile at his mother’s constant ability to make him feel safe and comfortable, “Missing Sammy,” he admits quietly, “I wish...I wish you could bring him.”

She sighs and takes Dean’s hand with a gentle squeeze, “I’m sorry baby, I wish I could bring him too. I’m going to try...Christmas is only two weeks away, I’m sure your father and Sammy will be here to see you then.”

Dean nods, although he’s fairly certain she’s full of it, “Thanks Mom.”

“Of course doll, now, enough of this. Tell me about your week, how are things with Castiel?”

Dean’s cheeks color pink, he really should stop mentioning Cas so much around her, “Fine mom, we’re...really good friends.”

“Mhm,” she grins knowingly, “Great friends I bet.”

“Mom!” She laughs and puts her hands up defensively, “okay okay, I’m sorry. You’re friends. So things are good?”

Dean takes a deep breath, this is it. He’s got to tell his mom everything Cas said to him. He needs to get justice for his innocent...boyfriend. Castiel’s disgusting fucking father needs to be locked away. But...that means Dean will lose Cas. Cas will either hate him for telling the secret, or he won’t mind and he’ll be released anyway. Dean knows he won’t survive here without Castiel, and either way he’s going to lose him in a few months, but still…

Dean smiles through the mortification that courses through his body. He’s horrified with himself, with his selfish inability to help Cas. How dare he? How dare he stake a claim on Castiel’s fate just because he loves him? Castiel is innocent, and excellent and wonderful and he needs to be anywhere else but here. Dean needs to tell her, Cas needs to be free. Cas deserves better than this, better than Dean. Cas deserves the fucking world.

" _But you and your mommy got me that excellent lawyer, and here I am, free while you’re still locked up and all alone."_

He opens his mouth to tell his mother everything, but all that comes out is, “Everything is great Mom. Things are going fine.”

“Oh I’m so glad honey,” she replies sincerely, “you deserve a little happiness.”

 _No_ , Dean thinks, _oh no I don’t._

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I guess Cas is my happiness.”

“Aw, how sweet. Maybe when you two both get out you can keep seeing each other. Gosh that’d be romantic don't you think?”

What he means to say is, _never would that happen in a million years, because Cas is getting shipped off to jail in a few months and I’m going to be stuck here alone and I’ll fucking die without him._

What he actually says is, “Maybe Mom, maybe someday.”


	15. And a Happy New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! You would not believe how busy I've been!
> 
> WARNINGS: NSFW, general mature content
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts :)
> 
> (Also this chapter makes me feel like I should point out, I'm not trying to like perpetuate my religious beliefs through Castiel lol. I'm an atheist, and everyone should respect everyone and be able to talk about religion without it becoming offensive.)

Christmas rolls around quickly at _Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall_. Boys all over begin walking around in tacky Santa hats and cheap decorations are put up all over the buildings. They’re even allowed to put up a giant tree in the middle of the rec hall, which happens two nights before Christmas. Dean is disappointed that he didn’t get to see Sammy or his dad at his mother’s last visit, but it’ll be Christmas in a few days, so he can deal with that sadness. Besides, Cas seriously loves Christmas, and it’s putting him in the best mood ever. Gotta love dating a religious kid.

“Ugh,” Cas complains, plucking out a cheap ornament and placing it dejectedly on the tree, “this is pathetic, they have no respect for Christmas.”

Dean chuckles, hugging Cas from behind and leaning down to kiss his cheek, pleased that the older boy has become more comfortable being touched lately, “it’s just a holiday Cas, settle down.”

“It is Jesus’ birthday!” Cas retorts.

“Cas is gay for Jesus,” Jo snorts, as she lazily tosses a piece of tinsel on the tree.

“I am very gay for Jesus,” Cas grumbles, “and this place has no appreciation for his birthday.”

“At least they’re celebrating your holiday,” Benny mutters, “I don’t see any Menorahs around here.”

“Christian supremacy is fascinating,” Kevin comments from where he’s sitting behind Jo playing with a lock of her gold hair.

“Oh shut up,” Cas rolls his eyes, “I don’t care if you make good points, just, shh.”

“What do you want for Christmas?” Benny asks as he sits down beside Kevin and Jo, who’ve basically given up decorating and let Cas take the reigns.

Jo hums thoughtfully, “Well, it’s my last week here, so I wouldn’t say I want to get out of here for Christmas. I guess I’d take some hair extensions.”

“They’d look very pretty,” Kevin compliments, and then says, “I think I’d like one of those fancy scientific calculators, couldn’t afford those where I come from. They’re awesome though.”

Dean laughs, “Great Kevin, the most interesting gift on Earth.”

“Well what do you want Dean?”

Dean pauses, pondering this. What he’d really like is to be thirty years old, out of juvie, married to Cas with a whole household of little screaming brats around them. But of course, he’d never say that out loud. “I dunno, a trip to Europe or something. It’s way cooler there.”

“Gay marriage is legal,” Cas comments, “and the health care is...much more fulfilling. I could see liking it there.”

“Maybe you guys will take a trip there someday,” Jo suggests, “maybe a honeymoon.”

“You’re gonna be real embarrassed about these jokes when they come true,” Cas warns, flicking a piece of tinsel at her, “now get up and help me put these ornaments on. The Lord is watching you slack off.”

-

Dinner on Christmas Eve is disappointing, to say the least. It’s Dean’s first Christmas without his family, and it’s harder than he’d like to admit. He misses his mom’s turkey, and Sammy’s cookies and hell, even his Dad’s ceremonial toast. Dean was supposed to get his first glass of wine with the toast this year, since he’s sixteen now and his father deems that old enough for his first drink, but _c'est la vie_.

Cas makes the night slightly better. Dean thinks it’s amusing how into this holiday he is, although he also finds it a little sad. Had Dean been through the things Cas has, he doesn’t think he’d be able to keep his faith. After all, why would God let all that bad shit happen to Castiel? Cas is a good person, Cas has suffered so much and garnered so little, how the hell does he still think God loves him? Dean’s not really sure of his position on the whole religion thing. He’s not a religious person, never has been, and he can’t really say whether or not he believes in God. That’s never mattered to him, he tries not to think about it because the more he does, the more confused he gets. But either way, he’s still very confused on Castiel’s rock-solid faith.

“Don’t think too hard over there Dean,” Kevin says lightly from across the table, “look’s like your head is about to pop off your shoulders.”

Dean shakes his head to clear it, and Cas frowns, “You okay Newbie?”

Face feeling hot from his scrutiny of Castiel’s faith, Dean nods a few times, “Yeah sorry...just thinking.”

“What about?”

Dean shrugs, “You.”

Cas grins at this, but Benny makes a gagging sound, “can’t catch a break with you two.”

-

Later that night, as Cas and Dean climb into bed and Cas ropes his arms around Dean’s slender waist, he can’t help the words as they come out. “Cas how come you’re so religious?”

The question seems to strike Cas as odd, and his brows furrow in confusion. He stares down at Dean for a moment, and then murmurs, “What kind of question is that?”

“Would you just answer me Cas?”

“My dad’s a pastor,” he says matter-of-factly, “So I grew up around religion and stuff. And...well, Dean, to be quite frank, I just am. I just know that God is watching over me, and that he loves me...no matter what I do, he loves me unconditionally.”

Dean turns on his side so he and Cas are facing eachother, noses brushing at the tip, “Yeah but...how do you know? How do you keep your faith after all you’ve been through? How do you know he loves you?”

Cas cards his fingers through Dean’s hair, pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips quickly, “He shows me that he loves me.”

“How Cas?”

“By giving me people like you,” he whispers, his three dimensional azure gaze boring into Dean’s, “people like you and Jo...people who remind me why I want to be alive. He lets me know that in my little fucked up world, there’s some good.”

Dean swallows hard, dragging his tongue across his lower lip, “I guess that makes sense. I’m sorry that I don’t have faith Cas.”

“That’s okay Dean,” he promises, a little smile growing on his lips, “you don’t have to see things my way for me to love you.”

“I love you too,” Dean leans down and interlaces his fingers with Castiel’s, “I love you so much Cas.”

Cas hums quietly and places his lips carefully against Dean’s. Eagerly, Dean returns the favor deepening the kiss and moaning against Cas’ lips. Cas’ hands slowly brush down Dean’s bare chest, finding their way into the waistband of his underwear. “I love you,” he whispers against Dean’s mouth as he begins to shimmy the underwear down Dean’s legs. Dean’s breath quickens and his eyes drift shut as Castiel’s slick fingers slide into his opening. Castiel’s fingers are smooth and rough at the same time, beating against Dean’s tight walls as he moans out slowly, tugging helplessly at Cas’ hair.

“Love you so much baby…” Cas murmurs, repositioning so he’s straddling Dean’s waist, removing his own boxers to reveal his gradually growing erection, “love everything about you. These freckles on your thighs,” to punctuate his point, Castiel leans down and presses feather-light kisses against the splatter of freckles on Dean’s inner thighs. Dean gasps a little at the feeling of Cas’ mouth against his sensitive flesh, combined with the rhythmic pumping of his fingers in Dean’s ass.

“Oh god Cas…” he manages, “love you too.”

“Mmmm,” Cas says softly into Dean’s flesh, “so happy you’re mine…”

Dean barely notices when Cas lubricates both his dick and Dean’s opening with vaseline -something they’ve both been buying a lot of recently.- He only takes notice when Cas’ slick cock slides into his hole, stretching him around Cas’ width. “That feel good baby?”

“So good Cas...love you so much…” Dean’s fingers rake down Cas’ back as his cock jerks up and pressses right into Dean’s prostate. His breath catches and he can hear Cas’ hitched pants in his ear, a low string of moans echoing from the older boy’s throat. Cas keeps moving, hips rolling fluidly as he makes love to Dean. Yes, they’re making love. They’re not fucking, they’re not having sex, they’re making love.

Dean knows it’s cliche and cheesy as fuck, but it’s also beautiful. It feels so much better than a cheap fuck does, it feels whole and right and tender and everything he’s missing. Dean whimpers as Cas’ strokes become a little more sloppy, both boys nearing their climax. The cross around Castiel’s damp, straining chest glints in the dim light of the bedside lamp. For some reason, Dean’s eyes settle on the necklace, and he can’t look away. He grabs Cas’ hand as one final pump inside of him brings him to his finish. Cas eyes settle on Dean’s face as he follows suit, and they ride out the orgasm together. Dean never used to make eye contact with people during sex, it was awkward and uncomfortable. Now, when he and Cas gaze at each other while Castiel is inside him, Dean finds it fulfilling. It reminds him how much he and Cas love one another, it makes the sex that much better. It makes the sex that much more... _meaningful_.

“Merry Christmas Dean,” Cas breathes as he slowly pulls out and kisses Dean softly, “you’re the best thing I could ever ask for.”

-

“Newbie! Get up! It’s Christmas!”

Dean grumbles tiredly, yawning and stretching as he sits up in bed. Cas is already dressed in his jumpsuit, hair combed underneath a tacky santa hat. “I got one for you too,” he grins, holding up another hat, “you can be Mrs. Claus.”

“I hate you,” Dean laughs as he rolls sideways and plops down on his feet, leaning down to kiss Cas warmly, “but you’re the cutest.”

“Hurry up and get dressed dork, we’ve got another snowball fight planned!”

Dean grins as he dresses and pulls the stupid hat on over his ears. Cas loops an arm around his waist and they make their way down the winding halls towards the snow-ridden, outdoor pavillion. They step outside only to be immediately barraged with snowballs. Jo and Kevin have joined forces, attacking both innocent boys as soon as they walk out. Alastair and Benny are back to back, working together and hitting people. Dean’s a little surprised to see them being teammates, but he’s not complaining about everyone getting along so well.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Claus!” Cas cries as he grabs Dean by the waist and throws him over his shoulder, “I’ll protect you!”

“Cas! Put me down!” Dean exclaims, but he’s laughing all the while. Cas carries him across the pavillion and they once again duck behind their table, where they’d had their first actual kiss.

As Dean runs his eyes over Castiel's cold red nose and the flakes of ice in his dark hair, he decides this is his best Christmas in a long time.


	16. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse. Mental health. Graphic violence, mentions of death. General mature content. Please read with discretion.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! Finally, getting into the good stuff! <3

Castiel has always found something satisfying about endings. He’d let his breath out after a movie’s credits began to roll by. He’d smile with pleasure when he turned the page and finished a book. He’d cheer when the school year ended. Jo’s last day at

 _Kripke Juvenile Detention Hall_ , is supposed to be today. But naturally, as all things in Cas’ life, it doesn’t work out.

“Jo?” Dean inquires as they step into the rec room, “what the hell are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be home.” She fidgets uncomfortably with her ugly jumpsuit, and Cas can see Kevin’s jaw clench.

“Jo?” Cas demands, “what happened?”

“She got herself sent to solitary for fighting right in front of the warden!” Kevin snaps angrily, “spent two hours there this morning and they’re extending her sentence three months!”

“Jo what the fuck?” Cas exclaims, “No! You’re supposed to get out! Why the Hell would do do this?”

“It’s not my fault!” she hissed back, “he started it!”

“Who?” Cas snarls, feeling every stream in his body boil with the thought of hitting the bastard who’d done this to her, “who was it?”

“Alastair,” she snarls, “we got into an argument, I can’t remember what it was about. We just started fighting.”

“ _I’m going to kill him_!”

“Cas, calm down.” he hears Dean’s voice behind me, small and nervous. He knows how it much it freaks him out when he acts this way, but right now he doesn’t fucking care. He’s going to kill Alastair. There’s no way that fucking meth head is getting away with kicking the shit out of Dean and now ruining Jo’s chances at getting out today. Cas whirls on his heel and scans the rec room for him. He’s been wanting to do this since he saw the bruises on Dean’s face. He spots Al leaning over a table playing cards. He’s laughing. The smug look on his fucking face ignites a fury in Castiel’s body that he can’t control. He stomps across the room, Dean, Kevin and Jo following closely behind.

“Fuckface!” he snarls, knocking the cards off the table with his fist. Al’s eyes level with him as he rises to his feet. His chapped lips curl back over yellow teeth, and there’s a murderous glint in his eyes.

 _Do it,_ his expression says, _I dare you._

“No Cas!” Dean’s grabbing his upper arm, “he wants you to! Don’t get yourself in trouble, please.”

The panic in his voice is extremely calming. Cas’ sucks in a deep breath, swallows hard, and nods, “You’re right Newbie, he’s not worth it.”

He turns and offers Dean a weak smile, before Al’s voice says, “that’s right Church Boy, listen to your pussy-whipping little bitch.”

The smirk is ripped from his face as Cas’ knuckles collide with it. He grunts loudly, buckling sideways as his scrawny body topples over. He isn’t skinny in the way Dean is; naturally slim, tender and smooth and beautiful. No, he’s bones and dried flesh pulled over muscle. He hits the ground, and makes a grab at Cas’ ankle, which is probably thicker than his neck. Cas kneels beside him and hits him again. Rage is the only thing he can process, not Dean’s frantic pleads for him to stop, not Al’s quickly bloodied face, not Jo insisting that he better stop.

“Jo’s supposed to be fucking gone!” he screams as his fist collides with Al’s nose again, and there’s a cracking sound. The skinny boy has slowly grown more and more limp, his face stained with blood and saliva, “you fucking piece of shit drug addict!”

“Kill me!” Al shrieks, grabbing Cas’ collar desperately, “just fucking kill me Castiel!”

“Maybe I _will_!”

“No! No! Cas!” Dean’s tugging on his arms again, desperation and begging in his voice. He sounds panicked and pathetic, “please Cas! Don’t they’re going to take you away! Please please get off him!”

Cas grabs Al by the hair and slams his head against the floor. Every frustration comes out in the jolting forward motion of his arms. His father’s hands caress his body, and he smashes Al’s head down again. He gets arrested, Al’s head hits the floor once more. He takes advantage of Dean, Al’s body stops fighting the impact. The boy’s eyes quickly drift shut and he grunts, going completely still. Cas isn’t even sure if he’s still breathing.

“Cas Cas please,” Dean’s crying now, honest-to-god _crying_ , “Cas, baby get off him!”

Slowly, Castiel rises to his shaking legs and squares his shoulders. His hands are painted with Alastair’s blood and he’s probably got a ravaged, animalistic glare plastered across his face.

“Why are you crying?” he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out as a growl, but it’s much harsher than expected.

Dean quickly wipes at his eyes, “they’re going to take you away! You killed him!”

“Dean, I already _am_ away.”

He hasn’t noticed that everyone in the rec hall has turned to watch the encounter. He briefly notices two inmates have locked out the guards, who are angrily beating against the door trying to get in. Smart move.

“Besides,” he glances behind him at Al’s unmoving body, “he’s...he’s not dead.”

_God won’t forgive you for this Castiel. You fucked up big time._

_Shut up! He’s not dead._

Kevin kneels beside Al, pressing two fingers into his neck, “No pulse.”

“No!”

Cas isn’t sure who screams it, because just as they do the guards burst in, overpowering the locks. Cas does notice the jolts of electricity running through his side as the taser hits him.

“No!”

He collapses, gasping for air on his side. His hands are cuffed behind his back and the electricity shoots through him in another spurt.

“No! No!”

Blackness envelopes his vision.

-

Cas groans, rolling on his side and gasping as he falls. His face smushes against the cold concrete of a very familiar room. Solitary. He sighs and climbs back on to the bed, grunting with effort as the sore feeling in his right side resonates. They fucking tasered him, really? He knows how it works, he’s been here before. This isn’t his first fight. He’ll just have to wait it out...wait as long as he can.

-

Dean’s almost finished hyperventilating by the time he reaches Ms. Missouri’s office. He knocks on the door once, twice, three times before she opens it slightly.

“What do you want?”

“Please let me in.”

Sighing, she pulls the door open the rest of the way and allows his entrance. He follows her back into the room where the cots are, and they sit down beside each other on one.

“You’re a fool,” she says darkly, “Your boy _killed_ my Alastair today.”

“Ms. Missouri you said it yourself, Al had gotten ahold of drugs again and was acting out violently. Cas...it was self defense.”

“He should be in jail, no not jail, the nut house. He needs help. Yet you sit here and hold his hand, you act like it’s possible to love a monster.”

“He’s not a monster, you don’t know him!”

“That little boy had a future,” she blinks away tears and clears her throat, “Novak fucking took that from him.”

“He was doing drugs again anyway Ms. Missouri! He didn’t have a future! He was going to die in jail or poverty like everyone else in here! But… Ms. Missouri, I came to you for help.”

“Help?”

“I think you’re right...about him needing psychological help. He really isn’t…” Dean taps his forehead, “all _there_. You’re a licensed therapist, you said so yourself. He needs it. I thought I could help him but...love don’t heal everything.”

“Not on your life Dean. I will not help that bastard, devil child.”

“Ms. Missouri you don’t know what he’s been through.”

“He killed a boy today!”

“And that boy was a drug-smuggling, abusive jackass!”

Missouri crosses her arms, scowling, “Tell me what you want from me Dean, what am I supposed to do for him?”

Dean takes a deep breath, “Cas was abused and sexually molested by his dad as a kid. I’ve seen the scars Ms. Missouri, he ain’t just whistlin Dixie. His father stole money from their church and used it for personal benefit, and Cas took the blame so he could escape him. That’s why he’s here. He-he needs to be somewhere else. Not in juvie or jail, he doesn’t deserve that. He needs therapy and-and those nice cozy rooms in-”

“You want me to send him to a mental institution?”

“ _No!_ I just want him to get what he deserves, for once.”

She bites her lower lip, seeming to warm up to the idea, “How are we supposed to convince anyone that he’s not guilty? Especially after today?”

“My mom knows an excellent lawyer. I’m going to talk to her tonight on the phone, tell her everything.”

“Okay, and what makes you think Novak will even talk to me?”

“You have to prove good intent. Tell him I told you everything...he’ll be furious and betrayed, you gotta talk him through it. He’ll warm up when he realizes you only want to help.”

Missouri hesitates, “This is an insanely stupid idea.”

“I know. But...I’m willing to try anything.”

She sighs, “I’ll go visit him in solitary. You call your Mama.”

“Thank you.”

"I’m not doing it for you Dean, I’m doing it for the innocent kid that’s somewhere inside Novak.”

“Well, we all appreciate it.” -

 

The worst thing about solitary is having no conception of time. Has Cas been having for minutes? Hours? Days? He has no idea. He’s not tired yet, which could be adrenaline, or it could be that he’d been knocked out for a while after getting tased. Either way, he isn’t sure how long he waits in silence until he hears a voice, “Castiel Novak?”

Eagerly, he heads for the small opening in the solitary door, poking his head through and staring in surprise, “Ms. Missouri?”

She gestures to him, and one of the guards pulls the door open. He’s handcuffed again, confused and slightly scared as he’s led down a long corridor and into one of the police interrogation rooms. Oh god.

She sits across from him, “Alastair is dead.”

_Oh god._

“But, you’ll not be prosecuted since he was high on smuggled drugs and acting unpredictably.”

_Holy shit._

“That’s not why I’m here. Dean sent me.”

“Dean?”

She arches an eyebrow, “interested now?”

“Dean sent you?”

She nods, “He...he told me everything Castiel. About your father, about your ill-accused imprisonment...everything.”

Cas feels like vomiting. His stomach churns and he swallows back bile as best as he can. Betrayal courses through him like a bullet wound. Dean had told her. He’d trust-

“Yeah yeah kid, you trusted him and all that jazz.” Missouri interrupts him as if she can read his thoughts, “your hurt feelings aren’t what’s important. He did it for your own good. His mom’s getting you a lawyer, and you’re getting out.”

“I’m _not_ going home. I can't go back there.”

“No, absolutely not. I’m going to take care of arrangements for you, don’t worry about that. Look, I’m here to tell you a few things.”

Cas hesitates distrustfully, “Look, I appreciate the effort but you can’t get me out. No one will ever believe you.”

“Dean’s family has a lot of money.”

Cas grimaces, “What did you need to say?”

“I’m going to help you. One hundred percent, good intentions. My only priority is your health and safety, that’s my job and I never quit. But it has to be a two-way street. You need to talk and talk a lot. If we’re going to win this you need to be open and honest and try to fucking work this out. This isn’t on me Castiel, your freedom depends on your willingness.”

Cas swallows hard, “Where do we start?”


	17. The Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter!  
> WARNINGS: graphic descriptions of sexual/physical abuse, mentions of suicide, therapy sessions, self hatred, violence, mentions of death, seriously this gets pretty dark read carefully please.
> 
> Pease enjoy and let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> (PS I'll admit this chapter made me tear up a little...good luck friends)

Talking about his mother does strange things to Castiel’s heart. He doesn’t remember her too much; she was never around. He remembers that she was always busy. Always on the run, always moving forward. He thinks that she was afraid if she stopped, gravity would hit her and she’d be forced to swallow reality. She didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to admit that deep down, she knew there was something wrong between her husband and her youngest son. She didn’t want to stop moving long enough to stare those problems in the face. In a way, she reminds Cas of Dean. Stealing, running from his issues. Avoidance is prominent in both of their personalities. Well, was prominent in hers. Before she blew her brains out.

“Keep going,” Ms. Missouri encourages quietly, “tell me more about your family.”

Cas takes a deep breath; in the past three days he’s grown quite trustworthy of Ms. Missouri. There’s something so genuine in her wise old eyes that makes it easy for him to bare his soul. She tells him the truth, no sugar-coating. He appreciates that. He misses Dean. Although he’s told that Dean’s been in contact with an excellent lawyer who will be meeting with Cas tomorrow, he still doesn’t feel connected to him. He can’t wait to see him again. When Dean gets out, he and Cas are going to be together. This is another thing talking with Ms. Missouri has allowed him; hope. Maybe things can really change. Maybe Cas can actually have a life.

But first, he’s got to wade through the grit, so he talks, “My brothers and mom weren’t around much when my dad was…” his sentence trails off, and he stares at her helplessly.

“Say it Castiel.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“When he was... _molesting me_.”

“Good.”

Cas nods, swallowing the bile in his throat. He can feel his father’s phantom fingers wrap around his neck as he tells Missouri his story. “I can still feel him choking me,” he whispers, “telling me if I ever told anyone then God would stop loving me. That I was worthless already, and this was what I deserved.”

Missouri nods encouragingly, “Continue.”

“The first time it happened, I think I was just eight or nine.” he sighs quietly and lifts his shirt to expose the gruesome scar that has grown and changed with his body, that has become a part of him, “I pushed him away. I screamed and fought so hard...god it felt so _wrong_.” he swallows hard, dropping his shirt, “I knew it wasn’t normal, dad’s and sons didn’t...they didn’t do that. Up until then, my father could do no wrong. He was a holy man, a prophet. But when he...when he…”

“What did he do to you?”

“Ms. Missouri I-”

“You need to say it. You won’t get past it unless you can admit it.”

Cas lower lip trembles, “he touched my...touched my _penis._ ” his teeth chatter and his stomach churns, “he made me feel so fucking dirty. He made me touch...he made me touch _his_. He told me that I was beautiful,” Cas’ entire body is shaking now, his chapped lips moistening with saliva, “he told me I was the prettiest little boy he’d ever seen. I didn’t want to be beautiful, I wanted to be away from him. He - he made me-” Cas gags, flinching hard at the memory and swallowing the bile in his throat helplessly.

“Say it Castiel.”

“ _Please_ -”

“Say it.”

“He made me _cum_ ,” Cas’ voice is somewhere between a whimper and a sob, “I was nine. I was nine fucking years old.” snot runs out of his nose and his eyes moisten with tears, “he made me feel so fucking filthy for...for liking it. I _didn’t_ like it! But my body disagreed and-” his words choke off with another gag, and he gulps, “I was so confused and fucking horrified because his touch made me orgasm.”

Missouri lifts her chin and hands Cas a tissue from the box on the table between them. Embarrassed that he’s been reduced to a snotty mess, he blows his nose and wipes his eyes, sniffing, “thanks.”

“Cas?”

“I’m broken,” his voice is a hitched, weak sob, “I’m ruined. I’m a mistake.”

“No Castiel. You are whole.”

“I’m fucking broken,” he’s sobbing even harder now, wiping desperately at his face with tissues that do nothing to halt the wetness of his tears, “I’m fucking destroyed, how could anyone love me? How can anyone look at me without _seeing_.”

“ _Castiel!_ ”

His head snaps towards her harsh tone, and she continues, “Do something for me.”

“W-what?”

She leans down into her bag and rummages through it for a moment, pulling out a small travel-sized mirror. She passes it across the table into Cas’ trembling fingers, “Look into it.”

“No.”

“Look into it.”

“Why?”

“Do it Castiel.”

He sniffles again, and lifts the mirror. It takes a moment for the image to focus since his hands are shaking so badly, but finally he’s staring back at his reflection.

“Describe to me what you see.”

“Blue eyes, dark hair-”

“No. What you _really see_.”

Cas’ lower lip is trembling again, “Garbage. Useless. Good-for-nothing _ungrateful little bastard! I gave you everything! Let daddy touch you!_ ”

In a fit of rage he flings the mirror across the room and watches it shatter against the wall.

Missouri glances at the mirror, then back at him, seemingly unperturbed, “Who was that? Who was that talking?”

“Him...”

She nods, “You’ve internalized it haven't you.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“You’ve let your father’s words define your self worth.” she licks her lips, “you’re molding your self-image around things your abuser said to you.”

“...no I’m not. I really feel that way-”

“No Castiel. You know and I know that you’re smarter than that. You’re just afraid to show other people. You think they won’t see someone worthwhile in that mirror, so neither do you. Your entire fucking personality revolves around pleasing others, do you know that?”

Hands shaking once more, he whispers, “No.”

“Ever since you were a kid,” she murmurs, “you’ve pleased others. You pleased your father. That’s all you were good for, pleasing him. Or so you say.”

His hands clench into fists, “I’m sorry for breaking your mirror.”

“Don’t be sorry. Anger is a step in the right direction. You need to learn not to be submissive to your abuser. Be angry, be furious, be strong.”

“I’m not mad at him… I’m mad at myself.”

“Oh really? Did you abuse yourself?”

“No but-”

“Did you molest yourself?”

“Missouri-”

“Did you steal that money?”

“You know I didn’t-”

“The only thing you’re guilty of is letting your abuse define you. So tell me Castiel, who are you really mad at?”

“...Him.” “Why are you mad at him?”

“Because he fucking ruined my life.”

“Keep going.”

“He...he stole my childhood! He stole my teenage years! He’s stolen _everything_!” Cas is pretty sure he’s screaming right now, but all he can really hear is the blood in his head, “he took my life and my family and my friends and he _killed me_! He made me this! He made me this empty fucking shell! His fingerprints are on my skin! I’ll never escape, he’s all over me!” he slams his fist against the table with an unintelligible scream, ignoring the painful split in his knuckles, “ _fucking bastard! Fucking monster!_ ”

Missouri watches calmly, her dark brown eyes not moving from his face as she patiently waits for him to finish up. Cas sucks in a few desperate pants, and looks at her through his blurry eyes, “How _dare_ he?”

She nods, “How dare he?”

His fists clench again, “I was a kid. I...I didn’t fucking deserve that.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

“How could he do that?” his shoulders slump and his furious shouts are reduced to a small, meek whisper, “how could my daddy do that to me?”

Missouri leans over and lays her hand across Cas’ now bleeding one, “He isn’t your daddy Castiel. That is not love. That is not a father.”

Cas grabs her hand, surprisingly comforted by the smooth dark skin of her warm fingers, “He’s not my daddy. He’s...he’s not my family.”

“He’s not your family.”

“He...he is _nothing_. He...he shouldn’t get away with this. What he’s done to me.”

“He won’t.”

“He won’t! He’s going to get punished, right Ms. Missouri?”

“You tell me Castiel.”

He grips her hand just a little tighter, “He won’t. He's going to get punished.”

-

Cas meets with the lawyer the next day. Ms. Missouri walks with him, an arm soothingly around his shoulders. They’re meeting in the currently empty visiting room, and apparently both the lawyer and Dean’s mother are going to be there. He’s nervous, terrified really, but Ms. Missouri’s arm around him makes breathing just a little easier.

“You ready for this baby?” she asks as they pause outside the door.

“Nope.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

They step into the room and shut the door behind them. The room is empty except for two guards, Bobby and Henrikson. The table in the center is being occupied by a serious-looking brunette, Dean’s mother and…

“Dean!” Cas breathes in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dean to be here.

Dean’s body jerks sideways and he practically sprints towards Castiel, throwing his arms around the thicker boy, “Cas Cas!” he exclaims, as if he hadn’t believed Cas would really be here.

Cas grips his face and kisses him hard, “I miss you.” he breathes against Dean’s lips.

“I miss you more. Benny moved back in. Haven’t had the heart to tell him we fucked on his bed.”

Cas manages a laugh, relieved none of the adults hadn’t heard that quip, and he follows Dean and Missouri back to the table.

“Castiel,” Dean’s mother says softly, a slight smile on her face, “I’m Mary.”

He holds his hand out, and she shakes it gently, “It’s a privilege to meet the woman who raised someone like Dean.”

Her cheeks blush pink, but she remains serious, “I am sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.” she glances at her son, “I’d prefer it to be in a more...pleasant setting.”

“I just appreciate this, more than you know. Thank you for your help.”

“Of course.”

The brunette clears her throat, and speaks with a clear, English accent, “Hello Castiel, my name is Bela Talbot. I’m going to be your attorney for the duration of your case.”

“Hi,” he breathes, shaking her hand as well, “Thank you.”

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush.” she looks at Cas seriously, “my main priority is getting your innocent little ass out of here so you can get the help you deserve. As long as you fully disclose any relevant information, we should be on the same page.”

“Absolutely.”

“Perfect. Now, tell me about discovering your father’s embezzlement.”

He takes a deep breath, “we’d just gotten a new TV. I heard my older brothers discussing it in the other room. I was, I was thirteen. One day I stepped into the living room unnoticed. They were talking about how my father had “stolen the cash for this bad boy” so I looked into it. Didn’t take much, a glance into the local newspaper told me that our church had been stolen from. I’m not idiot, I put it together pretty fast. Not like my dad is the king of morality anyway.” he breathes deeply again, “I just walked right into the police station, put on my best sad face, and confessed. Said I felt too guilty for my crimes, and they arrested me. There was no trial, I refused one since I was afraid I’d get off and have to return to my father.”

Bela’s been writing down every word on a piece of notebook paper, and now she looks up at him, “Have you any evidence that it’s your father who stole the money and not you?”

“Two things. Mine and my brother’s testimony, should they decide to give one. And, my dad’s credit card. If he still has the same one he had four years ago, his bill should have the purchase of the TV on it. He always printed and saved his credit card bills, even ones from before my birth. He keeps them all in the bottom shelf in his closet. The bill has got to be in there, a TV bought in his name with money transported from his suddenly swelling bank account.”

Bela nods eagerly, “That’s very good for us. I pulled some strings and got the court to reopen your case. We have a week to prepare, gather evidence, witnesses, testimonies, and all that. Next Monday, court will convene and we will see where it goes.”

Cas swallows hard, feeling nauseas but ignoring it, “Okay.”

“Cas,” the otherwise quiet Dean speaks up, “you’re gonna have to...have to tell them stuff. Courtroom full of strangers. You sure you can do that.”

Cas reaches across the table and interlaces his and Dean’s fingers, “I can do whatever it takes. He won’t get away with this. Not on my life.”

Dean shudders at Cas’ choice of words, but nods anyway, “Good.”

“Next week then,” Bela enthuses, rising from her seat, “I will be back to discuss things tomorrow after yours and Ms. Missouri’s session. Thank you for your time.”

Mary kisses Dean’s forehead, hugs him tight and turns to Cas, “Welcome to the family.” she murmurs, before doing just the same to him. Then, she follows Bela out. Cas’ heart beats a few times, and then melts.

“She…” he mumbles, “is everything a mother should be.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand and kisses his cheek, “That she is Cas. That she is.”


	18. Dead End Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I'm only 15 and I've never been to court but I'm taking all of my background information from my binge watching Boston Legal lmao. Sorry if it's not up-to-par with realism, just enjoy the fiction! <3
> 
> (also I know the credit card stuff makes like no sense and isn't really true but for the sake of my sanity I made shit up. This is an AU, I am taking advantage of that lol) 
> 
> WARNINGS: descriptions of sexual/physical abuse, general mature content.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! More to come soon!

“You look very handsome.”

Cas blushes, patting down the front of his shirt and mumbling, “Thanks Newbie, you look pretty hot when you’re not in beige.”

Dean offers him a smile, but it’s anxious. They’re both dressed uncomfortably in silk button-ups, dark gray slacks and toe-pinching loafers. Bela had even added a tie and jacket to Cas’ ensemble, which he isn’t too thrilled about. Today. The hearing is today. Cas is nervous. He and Bela have spent all week preparing for this. She’d gotten in contact with his brothers to see if they’d testify, two of them said no. But, surprisingly Gabriel had been completely willing. He’d promised to dig through his father’s credit card bills and find the one that belonged to the TV. Bela had pulled some strings and Dean was being allowed furlough in order to be present during the hearing. Cas is immensely grateful for this, Dean’s presence, even if it’s not by his side constantly, will be soothing. Bela says she expects the trial to be fairly quick, which he’s also grateful for.

“If we win this,” Cas tells him, “I’ll come visit you every Saturday until you get out.”

Dean grins, cheeks dimpling with his genuine joy, “When we win this, I expect to see you every goddamn weekend. And call too.”

“Absolutely.”

“You boys ready?” Ms. Missouri is standing outside their cell now, Bobby right next to her.

Dean grabs Cas’ hand, grinning, “Yes.”

“Then lets go.”

Bobby releases them, and the four of them exit the cell, bustling down the corridor. They pass the rec room on the way to the parking lot, and Jo pulls them into a big group hug. She’s teary-eyed, but excited and hopeful. Benny claps Cas on the back as if they’re old pals -which they certainly are not- and Kevin gives him an encouraging speech about how pastor immorality is pretty common. Crowley also shoots Cas an angry glare as they exit, which makes sense seeing as Cas killed his buddy. They’re handcuffed and loaded into the back of a big black police SUV, Ms. Missouri and Bobby sitting up front in passenger and driver seats respectively. Dean gives Cas an apprehensive smile, which Cas responds to by blowing him a kiss.

They quickly arrive outside the court building, and the four of them meet Mary and Bela outside. Cas was only expecting those two, but behind them is a tall, dark haired man with a scruffy face, and a short, scrawny kid who looks like a non-freckled version of Dean. Sam and John, Cas guesses. The morning is brisk and cool. There’s a slightly overcast gray color to the sky, which gives Cas an eerie feeling. Bela had taken the liberty of getting him a big tan trench coat to go over his suit, which he’s grateful for as he huddles into it. It’s nice to be in something other than a prison jumpsuit yeah, but he feels like only serial killers wear these coats. He’ll take it off before they face the jury, murderer trenchcoat isn’t exactly good for the image.

“Good morning Castiel, Dean.” Bela greets them with her sharp, intelligent smirk, “ready for this?”

Cas sighs, fidgeting with his handcuffed hands, “as ready as I’ll ever be. Did the witnesses arrive?”

Bela nods encouragingly, listing them off on her fingers, “Store clerk who sold your father the TV -boy was he hard to track down, but all too willing to participate-, Gabriel with testimony and credit card bills at the ready, and a surprise witness.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow up, “Who?”

“If I told, it’d no longer be a surprise. Don’t worry, you don’t know him, but he’ll certainly help our case.” she glances up at Bobby, “And you offered to testify as well?”

Cas turns to Bobby in surprise, “Mr. Singer?”

Bobby scratches his beard, shrugging, “Just gonna get up there and tell ‘em what a good kid you are. The jury’s approval is important, and you’re not exactly the best people person.”

Cas can’t decide between touched and offended, so he settles for touched, “Thank you sir.”

“Don’t mention it kid. You deserve to get outta there.”

“Now Cas,” Bela says seriously, “we’ve got a good case going here, but I bet your father’s one step ahead. I’ve spoken with his attorney, some douchebag named Ruby. They’re calling several people from your hometown and your church who are easily going to say your father is a great man.”

Cas grimaces, “I understand it won’t be easy. But...we’ve got to try.”

Dean nudges his shoulder and smiles, “I’m proud of you Cas.”

John clears his throat, and says, “Maybe we should all go inside.”

Bela nods in agreement, “My paralegal Charlie is waiting with the witnesses. Cas, you me and Ms. Missouri will meet with them now. You already know that she’s testifying for you, I’m sure. Everyone else, please find your way to the courtroom and take your seats, we’ll convene in a few minutes.”

They begin to disperse. Dean and Cas manage an awkward, handcuffed hug -John might actually have an aneurysm if they kiss- before they’re whisked away from each other. Ms. Missouri walks with him, one hand comfortingly on his shoulder as they attempt to keep up with Bela’s fast-paced strides. They have a few brief minutes together in a room, where Bela gives him a short debriefing of the court experience, and then they’re on the move again. They arrive in the already-packed courtroom and quickly move to their seats.

Cas takes in his surroundings; twelve diverse adults are seated to the right side of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. A few of them continue to chatter as he enters, seemingly sparked by his appearance. He notices Dean and his family, sitting amongst the other people in the court. That’s encouraging for a moment, until his eyes move left and he spots his father’s table. His dad is sitting in his black overcoat and white collar, face unreadable, back stiff. He sits beside a pale, muscled woman with long black hair who must be his lawyer, Ruby. Her paralegal, much unlike Bela’s redheaded bouncy one, is a serious- looking woman who’s wearing a nametag: Ava.

Cas quickly looks away from his father, face burning with anger. After starting his daily therapy sessions with Ms. Missouri, he’s been feeling less self-hatred, and more resentment towards his father. He supposes that’s a good thing, but he has to remind himself to stay composed and not enraged. The more likable he seems to the jury, the better chance they have of winning this thing. The judge enters, a tall, slim, dark-skinned woman. One of the police officers clears his throat, “All rise for the honorable judge Cassandra Robinson.” Everyone in the room rises, and then sits collectively. Cas’ heart pounds.

“Have all members of the jury been explicitly explained the details of the case and understand that any prejudice and or biased decisions will not be tolerated by this court?” Judge Robinson asks seriously. There’s a synchronized mutter of agreement from the jury, and she continues, “Then, let’s begin. Defense, your opening statement please.”

Ruby rises slowly, her black pencil skirt and tight black jacket causing the movements of her sleek body to appear snakelike. She marches to the front of the courtroom, her heels clicking and her shoulders back with the confidence and credibility of a cage fighter. She gives the crowd a trustworthy, reptilian smile before beginning, “Ladies and gentleman of the court. We’re here today, for one reason, and one reason alone.” she tilts her head robotically towards Cas, and he fidgets under her intimidating gaze, “a man incarcerated four years ago, has decided to end his sentence early, by framing his religious-leader of a father for his actions.” she turns back to the crowd, shaking her head scornfully, “we are in this court to defend an innocent pastor against his rebellious son’s affront to his faith.”

“Is anyone actually buying this?” Cas hears Bobby demand from a few seats down.

“He’s just a kid,” Mary mutters in response, “She calls him a man like he’s got any idea how this works.”

“She’s good.” John replies in a hushed tone, “she’s too good.”

Cas tries to tune them out and watch as Ruby finishes her statement, “so before this trial begins noble jurors, ask yourselves this: is this a legitimate hearing, or is it one guilty criminals desperate attempt to escape?” 

She whirls on her heels again and stalks back to her chair, as if she’s above it all. Cas swallows hard and tries to gage the reaction of the jury. Did they agree with her? Could they already have made a decision? Bela rises now, her movements much different than Ruby’s. She walks with confidence, but much more subtle. Her shoulders are back, face serene, movements fluid yet subdued and welcoming. Castiel much prefers watching her move.

“Opposing counsel mentioned that my client is both a ‘criminal’ and a ‘man.’ I would first like to begin by pointing out that my client is seventeen years old, turning eighteen in February. When he was arrested, he’d just turned thirteen. To call him either a criminal or a man by any standards, is not only a false statement, but an attempt at swaying your unbiased opinions in the defense’s favor. A cheap trick, in my opinion. But,” she sighs softly and arches an eyebrow, “that is not why we’re here today. Today, we are actually here to avenge the wrongdoing of an innocent, naive child. A child brought up from tragedy and mistake, who in a desperate attempt to escape his father’s abusive clutches, made a knee-jerk decision that he knew would free him from his life.” she glances at Cas, gives him a slight, genuine smile and says, “we are here today, to give this boy the freedom he deserves.”

“Damn,” Dean mutters, “ _She’s_ good too.”

Bela nods once at the jury, gives a pleasant look towards the judge, and moves back to her seat beside Castiel.

Judge Robinson nods, “The defense may call their first witness.”

Ruby stands again, and the police escort an elderly woman to the beginning of the room. Cas recognizes her instantly; his old librarian and church choir leader Ms. Heffner. She was an awful, cranky old bat who hated Castiel because he refused to play Mary in the nativity scene, despite her insistence that his soprano voice was better than any of the girls. They’d gotten into a huge argument that ended with Cas telling her the nativity scene _wasn’t a musical_ , and her banning him from auditioning for church productions forever. They didn’t exactly end things on good terms.

The officer swears her in and Ruby begins, “Ms. Heffner, would you explain to the court how you know both Castiel and Jeremiah Novak?”

The batty old bitch nods, “I have been going to Pastor Novak’s church for thirty five years. I was with his wife when she delivered all of her children, including this one.” she gestures a gnarly hand towards Cas and continues, “he was a nasty little one being born, got stuck and they had to use forceps.” she scowls, “already causing trouble.”

“Objection!” Bela exclaims, “the witness is using an uncontrollable event to reflect poorly on my client’s character.”

“Sustained,” Judge Robinson says amiably, “Ms. Heffner please keep things relevant.”

Ms. Heffner scoffs, but Ruby says, “What did you think of Castiel as a boy? Did you two get along?”

Ms. Heffner wrinkles her nose, “He was a very good boy until he hit nine. Then, he became a little brat. Acting out at church, refusing to socialize and even saying he didn’t want to participate in my nativity scene. He insisted it wasn’t realistic.”

Cas’ jaw falls slack, she is completely twisting what had happened. She’s making it sound like he denied the fact that it had ever happened, not him arguing that Jesus’ birth happened without melody! He turns to Bela, appalled, but she places her hand on his knee to silence him. Shaking her and mouthing ‘no.’ He sighs, and turns back to the witness.

Ruby nods thoughtfully, “No further questions.”

Bela stands and approaches Ms. Heffner, “Good morning ma’am.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Now, you spoke of my client misbehaving around the time he turned nine years old. The same time slot that his father began molesting and abusing him.”

“Objection!” Ruby snarls, “my client has not been proven guilty of any allegations!”

“Sustained,” Judge Robinson says, “disregard that statement jury.”

Bela nods but Cas can see that she’s made her point. The jury members are glancing between each other with contemplative looks. Reasonable doubt. That’s what Bela had been doing. Bela finishes her questioning of Ms. Heffner and another witness is called to the stand. The store clerk who’d sold Pastor Novak the TV. He’s grilled by Ruby and Bela, telling them the same story. He briefly remembers a quiet night some four years ago, where a pastor came in and bought a flat screen. It was the same night that the TV in the Novak household had been purchased.

Ruby holds her next witness, allowing Bela to call Gabriel to the stand. Cas watches his brother approach, biting his lip and glancing anxiously at the crowd. He wonders why Gabe looks so nervous; he’s always been a people person.

Ruby begins, “Gabriel Novak, you are three years Castiel’s senior, yes?”

Gabe nods, “Yes. I’m twenty.”

“Did you and your brother spend much time together as kids?”

“No...I guess not.”

“Why was that?”

“I guess we never had much connection. Nobody in our family did we were kind of independent. It only got worse when our mother died. But…” he glances at Cas, “none of us knew what was happening between Cas and our dad.”

Cas avoids his stare, looking at his feet. Ms. Missouri squeezes his shoulder, letting him know that everything is going well.

“So your father never threatened you or mistreated you in any way?”

“No. He was an average father.”

Ruby nods, “Hmm...so, just to be clear; your father treated all three of his older sons with respect and proper parenting. But, the child who’s now incarcerated for his alleged left of church funding, was repeatedly abused and molested by him, without _any_ of you noticing?”

Gabriel grits his teeth, “Like I said, we were independant.”

Ruby arches a perfectly waxed, sharp brow, “So it would seem. No further questions.”

She whirls on her feet and heads back to the stand, plopping down beside Cas’ father with a smug expression that makes Castiel’s blood boil.

Bela’s up next, “Gabriel, do you love your brother?”

Gabe hesitates, then nods surely, “I do.”

“Do you love your father?”

He looks towards Pastor Novak, and then back to Bela, “I do.”

She nods, “Okay. Can you share with the court today the evidence against Jeremiah Novak that you’ve acquired?”

Gabriel nods, and is passed back a familiar brown box from one of the officers. He thumbs through it, and pulls out a white receipt, “My father prints and keeps track of his credit card bills, has since he first got them. Every purchase he makes gets printed and placed in a box in his closet. This is a bill for the credit card he used to purchase a TV, from the clerk who was up here earlier. And here-” he digs through and produces another document, “is a previous receipt. The amount of money on this bill as opposed to the one on this, is significantly more. Clearly, he’d acquired a great deal of money in a short span of time, since these bills are three months apart.”

“Allow me to see them.” Judge Robinson orders. Gabe passes them to an officer, who in turn hands them to the judge. She places a pair of thin glasses on her nose and studies them before saying, “They’re legitimate.”

Bela smiles at Gabriel, “No further questions.”

Gabe looks to his dad as he exits the stand, “I’m sorry for betraying you, but I can’t let you get away with this. Too long I’ve stood by and let my little brother take the hit for things he didn’t do. It’s time for you to grow up.”

The pastor’s lips press into a tight line, but he offers no response. Gabe scowls and heads back to his seat, shooting Cas an earnest wink as he does so. Cas smiles at this, and folds his cuffed hands in his lap.

Ruby gets to her feet again, “The defense calls Castiel Novak to the stand.”

-

Dean hesitates, gnawing on his lower lip as Cas slowly gets to his feet and walks with as much dignity as he can manage. He looks beautiful and terrified, and Dean wishes he could sprint up and hug him. But he’s proud nonetheless, proud of Cas for being able to do this.

“This won’t be pretty.” he whispers to Sammy, “keep calm.”

Sam nods once, his now thirteen-year-old face serious, “I understand.”

The bitchy lawyer Ruby stalks over to him like a fucking walking machete, “Good morning Castiel.”

“Hello ma’am.”

_Manners. Nice touch Cas._

Ruby’s jaw clenches and she begins to speak, “Can you explain to the jury the first time your father allegedly harmed you?”

Castiel sucks in a deep breath, visibly shaken. Dean hopes that makes him look more sympathetic instead of unstable. He licks his lips and begins, “I was nine years old when my father first harmed me. It was one day after school. I’d just finished up homework.” his voice is precise and methodical, like he’s practiced this in the mirror ten times, “my father sat down beside me at the table and placed his hand over mine.” he swallows hard, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing, “he began to run his hand up my arm and towards the top button of my shirt. I was a child, I was very confused so I allowed him to continue. I thought- I thought maybe there was something he needed to see on my chest, maybe I had an injury I didn’t notice.”

“Pretty precise thought process for a nine year old.” Ruby remarks doubtfully.

Cas’ gaze guts to her, and Dean would hate to be on the other end of that glare, “One will come up with any excuse they can when they experience unfamiliar and frightening behavior, Ms. Ruby.”

She swallows roughly, “Continue.”

“My father undressed me, very slowly. I remember closing my eyes, pretending that it was me doing it. I didn’t fully understand the extent of the situation, being as sexual arousal was a foreign concept to me. My father undressed too, right there in the kitchen. We were home alone, the first time. I don’t think he planned it though. I think he got caught up in a moment, and decided to carry out a sick fantasy he might’ve had.” Cas takes another deep breath, and Dean notices that he turns to face his father, changing his tone completely, “We were naked. You had a knife and a candle lighter. You said to me “ _Castiel, my beautiful little boy. This is what God wants._ ” you repeated that until it was burned into my skull. You made me believe that when you touched me, it was God’s will.” his face sours, and he looks back to Ruby, “it wasn’t. It was wrong.”

Ruby seems a bit shaken by the testimony, but she quickly regains composure, “You say your father brandished weapons against you? Have you any proof of that? I’m lead to believe you have a significant scar on your torso. Would you be willing to prove it?”

“Objection!” Bela roars, “the defense is asking my client to undress in front of the courtroom!”

“Sustained,” Judge Robinson snaps, “Counsel that is absurd and I will not stand for it.”

“It’s okay,” Cas pipes up, “I want to do it.”

“Cas you don’t have to do this.” Bela insists, “you don’t need to show them anything.”

Cas shakes his head, “It’s okay.”

Dean can see his hands trembling from a few rows back. He knows how difficult this is; his scar isn’t exactly something he’s proud of. And now he’s going to show it off in front of a room full of strangers. His fingers shake as he removes his black sports coat, and gradually undoes all of his buttons, thank god someone had uncuffed his hands. He gets to his feet and pulls open his button up, twisting his body slightly to the side so the entire room can view the grizzly marks on his skin. A collective gasp erupts from the jury, and even Ruby looks a little shocked.

But, she quickly says, “Do you have any way to prove that this scar was created before you entered juvenile hall? The inmate mortality rate at _Kripke Detention_ is higher than any other in the state. Surely another inmate could have crafted a weapon against you.”

Bela clears her throat, “We’ve brought in a licensed doctor who also performs autopsies to examine the injury and determine the date it was received.”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Robinson says, “bring him up.”

A serious looking brunette man in a brown tux walks slowly up to the front stand, where he faces Castiel, “is it alright if I touch you Castiel?”

Cas hesitates, but nods once, “Yes sir.”

The doctor nods, and turns Cas’ body towards the jury, “the indentation of the scar in his skin would indicate it was delivered by a relatively blunt object, which is very possibly a kitchen knife that wasn’t maintained correctly. As far as the age of the scar; it’s very old. See here, a new scar like the one he has here on his arm, probably from an accident, is red and puckered. It will scab and eventually turn into this,” he traces two fingers lightly along Castiel’s scar, “a fairly faded, jagged white mark that is beginning to blend with his skin. The scar has also clearly stretched, as proven by the misshapen edges around here, which says that it has grown and changed along with Castiel’s body over a period of years.” he turns to Ruby with a sour expression, “this scar is very, very old.”

“Thank you doctor,” Judge Robinson says to him, “you may take your seat. Castiel, you may redress.”

There’s fire in Ruby’s eyes and she growls, “Is it true that you killed another inmate?”

Cas’ head jerks up from his half undone buttons, “What?”

“Objection!” Bela demands, pushing her chair back with a screech, “Preposterous! The irrelevant insinuation that my client-”

“Who’s insinuating?” Ruby argues, “he killed Alastair Parker!”

“The kid was on drugs and acting violently, Castiel defended himself!”

“Enough!” Judge Robinson snaps, “Objection sustained, as the death of Alastair Parker has been proven self defense. Ruby, I will give you two more minutes with Castiel, and then you’re done. You are plucking at my last nerve.”

Ruby scoffs, “No further questions.” and returns to her chair.

Judge Robinson rubs the bridge of her nose, “That’s all for today. I ask that court convenes again tomorrow at noon.” she bangs her gavel and exits the room.

“Well,” Dean hears Bela say to Castiel, “we’re almost there kiddo.”


	19. Verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of sexual/physical abuse, general mature content.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Almost to the finish line guys...we can get through this together <3
> 
> (PS I promise this story wont make you cry like Twist and Shout did. Pls don't talk to me about that fic.)

For some sick, masochistic reason, Dean has _Son of a Preacher Man_ by Dusty Springfield stuck in his head.

_The only boy who could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man He’d kiss and tell me everything is alright, can I get away again tonight?_

Missouri is called to the stand first. Her chin held high, eyes gleaming with pride and knowledge and a wisdom that can only be described as ancient. Dean admires the way she moves without apology, the way her entire being centers around her intelligence and power. She walks with the stance of a leader.

“Ms. Missouri,” Ruby says as she bores her glinting snake eyes into Ms. Missouri, “you’ve been a therapist and doctor at Kripke Detention for how long?”

Ms. Missouri seems utterly unaffected by Ruby’s sharp behavior, “Twenty three years. Probably since before you were born.”

Ruby’s nose curls up in distaste, but she continues, “you’ve seen a lot of boys go through there huh?”

“More than you can count.” Ruby rolls her reptilian eyes, “Right. Do a lot of them claim to be innocent?”

“Of course.”

“Are a lot of them actually innocent?”

“A lot of them have committed crimes.”

Ruby doesn’t seem to like that answer, “So you’re admitting that several boys in your career have tried to say they were innocent, and yet-”

“None of them said they were _innocent_ , Ms. Ruby. But a lot of them weren’t criminals.”

Ruby decides this isn’t going exactly where she wants it to, and switches topics, “Let’s talk about Castiel Novak.”

“Excellent, I adore him.”

Dean smiles, and he can see Cas looking at his feet, smiling as well.

“You’ve been counseling him, correct?”

“Yes I have.”

“And you admit that he has violent outbursts and times when he can’t seem to control his mood swings and anger?”

“Yes. All of which are symptoms of what I believe to be, his post-traumatic stress disorder, and his bipolar disorder.”

“So he’s not completely sane?”

Ms. Missouri levels with Ruby, her dark eyes shimmering with something unreadable, “Castiel is as sane as they come. His father however,” she shoots the defense a daunting glare, “is not. And Jeremiah Novak is the reason Castiel suffers from unpredictable disorders. Not to mention, his rage and quickly shifting mood swings are severe because he’s never been treated for them. No one has ever tried to help him.”

The jury begin hushed whispers among themselves while Ruby attempts to respond to this, “So the client is unstable, violent and temperamental, and has untreated mental disorders?”

“Yes but he-”

“And is it true that bipolar disorder can lead people to tell lies and lash out unnecessarily?”

“In some cases yes but Castiel-”

“And you believe that Castiel has this disorder?”

“He does but-”

“No further questions.” Ms. Missouri snarls at her, “You’ve got a bad attitude girl.”

“Tell it to the jury.”

Bela rises, scowling at Ruby as she passes her and approaches the witness stand, “Morning Missouri.”

“How are you Bela?” “I’ve been better, thanks. Now, you were close with an inmate who passed, Alastair Parker?”

“An inmate Castiel murdered.” Ruby adds.

“Objection!”

“Sustained,” Judge Robinson growls, “Defense I will hold you in contempt if you don’t zip it!”

Ruby puts her hands up defensively, but shuts her mouth.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Bela proceeds, “you and Alastair Parker were close?”

Ms. Missouri nods sorrowfully, “Yes, the boy was on drugs. He had a rough home life, he severely struggled with psychotic outbursts and other hindrances. He often came to me in times of distress, for comfort.”

“And how did Parker and Novak behave towards each other?”

“Another inmate, who is here today, Dean Winchester, seemed to be the center of their issues. During Dean’s first week I believe, Alastair and a few of his friends beat him up. This began the tension between Castiel and Alastair, I would assume.”

“Dean, would you stand up please?” Judge Robinson inquires, eyes scanning the crowd.

Dean takes a deep breath and rises to his feet, wishing his hands weren’t cuffed, because he looks like a damn criminal, “Hi.” he says unsurely.

“You know Castiel Novak?” she confirms.

Dean smiles, “Very well.” Cas smiles back at him, which sends a few people in the jury into pleasant grins as well.

The judge nods, “And just to confirm what the witness said, Alastair Parker violently attacked you during your first week?”

Dean nods, “Yes. He fractured my rib, split my lip and gave me a few bruises. Cas got angry with him, but he decided to mind his own business.”

Bela smiles, “So Castiel didn’t attack Alastair immediately after your abuse?”

“No, not at all. There was tension and all that, but they never fought. Until, Al was on drugs again and he picked a fight with Castiel’s friend Jo. Cas confronted him, and Al was...acting crazy. We all knew he was going to hurt Cas, which is why he defended himself.” Dean puckers his lips at Ruby immaturely, “he didn’t _murder_ anyone.”

Ruby narrows her eyes, but looks away.

“You may sit Mr. Winchester, thank you.” Judge Robinson nods, and he smiles at her and takes his seat.

“So overall, what is your opinion of Castiel?” Bela asks Missouri seriously.

Missouri glances at Cas and sighs, “he’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. I used to despise him, I thought he was bad news and a bad person. But...he’s very genuine, and kind, and he’s learning not to let his horrible past define who he is. And he loves his faith. See that cross around his neck? Never seen him take it off. He overreacted during Christmas when the other inmates didn’t take it seriously. He’s capable of a lot of things Ms. Talbot, but betraying his church is not one of them. He did not steal money.”

Bela nods, smiling, “No further questions.”

The trial drags on, Ruby gives facts and statements that reflect on all the good things Pastor Novak has done for the church. It’s surprisingly convincing, and he gives the jury an earnest smile that even makes Dean think he might not be so bad. He shakes that thought off quickly, disgusted. Bela calls Bobby to the stand, and he talks about how much he likes Cas and wants to see him succeed. Michael and Lucifer both come up to the stand and insists that their father is an honest, hard-working and kind man. The pastor himself stays quiet. Things are relatively tied, until Bela calls her surprise witness.

“I’d like to call Frank Devereaux to the stand.”

“What?” Ruby demands, “your honor, the prosecution didn’t list him as witness!”

Judge Robinson purses her lips, “Who’s the witness Ms. Talbot?”

“A computer expert who works for the detention center.”

Interested, the judge replies, “I’ll allow it.”

Ruby throws her hands up in irritation, but the witness approaches the stand. He’s bulky and not very tall, with a map of graying hair and thick black glasses. He walks like he’d just been electrocuted, jitters and shakes running through his body with excitement.

“Thank you for being here today,” Bela tells him.

He nods, “Not pickin sides or nothin, just here to present some facts.”

“Care to elaborate?”

He nods at the courtroom, “at the detention center we allow weekly visits on Saturdays. We have cameras in the visitation rooms that record audio and video very very clearly, I’d know, I installed them myself. A few weeks ago, Jeremiah Novak signed himself in for a visit with his son, Castiel.”

Interest peaks in the jury’s masses, and Cas leans forward in his seat curiously.

“You brought us a video of their interaction today? Haven’t you?”

Frank nods, “I have.”

Two of the officers approach the center of the room with a large portable screen. They allow Frank to come up to it and fiddle with some buttons. Then, all of a sudden, the screen is displaying a birds-eye view of the visitation room. Frank takes a little remote and zooms in on two people: Castiel and his dad. “Listen carefully,” Frank orders, and presses play.

“ _You look handsome_ ,” Pastor Novak is saying to Cas, “ _so much like your mother._ ”

“ _You’ve got a lot of nerve you fucking prick._ ” Castiel hisses in response.

The pastor sighs, running a hand through his thinning dark hair. “ _Son, you must know, I’ve recanted_.” he shakes his head, “ _I’ve been forgiven for my sins. The things I did to you as a child did not go unpunished._ ”

“ _Oh really_?” Cas spits, sitting up to face his father head-on, “ _You’ve been forgiven have you? By who_?”

“ _The lord of course_ ,” his father replies matter-of-factly, “ _I confessed, I lost you as punishment_.”

“ _You’re a goddamn idiot_ ,” Cas growls, “ _he doesn’t get to forgive you! You didn’t fucking molest him_ -”

“ _Language Castiel._ ”

 _“Fuck you! I’m the one who says whether or not you’re forgiven. And guess what you sick fuck? You’re not. You’re a monster. Oh, and by the way douchepants, you’re the reason I’m here_.”

The pastor shakes his head, dumbfounded, “ _What did you call me_?”

Cas’ teeth grind audibly, “ _Douche. Pants._ ”

Frank stops the video again, raising an eyebrow at the jury, “and here…” he fast forwards, and hits play again.

“ _Why did you come here_?” Cas inquires, “ _what do you want?”_

“ _I wanted to see my son...and your brothers told me your appeal hearing went well. They told me that you said you didn’t commit the crime_.”

“ _So you’re here to tell me to keep my mouth shut?_ ”

“ _I needn't worry about that Castiel, what evidence have you got? Stealing money from your church and using it for your own personal needs is a very serious crime, especially in our hometown. You really think they’re gonna believe the pastor did it_?”

“ _Gotta give it to you dad_ ,” Cas snaps, “ _that’s vindictive_.”

“ _It’s the truth Castiel. I couldn’t get you out if I tried_.”

“ _Not that you’d try_.”

Frank presses STOP. Dean’s neck cranes to the side and his furious expression trains on Jeremiah. The pastor, for the first time during the trial, is beginning to look nervous. Judge Robinson, jaw clenched, turns to Bela, “Can you confirm that the film and audio haven’t been doctored?”

“Ah!” Frank reaches into his bag and passes a series of papers over to the judge, “proven by both myself and two other certified technology experts that the film and audio are both authentic.”

Judge Robinson looks over the papers, nodding, “Very good. All documents are legalized and proven.”

Bela grins, “Nothing further.”

“Defense?” Judge Robinson asks, “Have you any questions for the witness?”

Ruby, looks positively overwhelmed, “No.”

“Then please proceed with your closing statement.”

Ruby nods, chin high as she collects herself, and slinks to the center of the courtroom. She turns to the jury, swallows, and begins, “Ladies and gentlemen, over the past two days you’ve seen an overwhelming collection of facts and files and so called evidence. You’ve been blasted and prodded by the prosecution’s attempts at proving their client’s innocence. While my client, a faithful, god-loving pastor sits in silence and takes the abuse with grace.” she shakes her head sadly, “it is a shame to me to even be present during this trial. To watch as an innocent man loses two of his children to lies and hatred. It is to me, sad that you have to waste your time sitting through this.” she turns slightly, “I expect this jury to make the right decision, very quickly. Thank you all for your time.” She clicks back to her seat primly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and lifting her chin.

“Game time,” Bela murmurs to Castiel, and then rises. She moves to the front, placing her hands on her hips and smiling at the jury, “You all know why you’re actually here. You are here because for one time in this boys life,” she gestures with an open palm to Cas’ anxious expression, “Someone decided he was worth it. A foreign concept to him. He is thrown into incarceration for a crime he confessed to but did not commit, out of desperation, locked up all by himself for four years, and then jerked from his new home and brought here to defend himself to all of you. To prove his innocence. To share his awful, horrible story. To try for once to get himself what he deserves, since he’s been suffering for so long. Well, now it’s up to you. The defense is right, we’ve shown you all the evidence we can. Because, we actually have evidence, unlike her. We have shown heartwrenching testimonies, hardcore facts in the form of audio and video, as well as credit card bills and explanations as to why my innocent client confessed. To escape his father’s abuse.” she licks her lips, “All I ask of you now, is to take your time and come to a unanimous decision that is right. Think about what you’ve seen, what you’ve heard, what thoughts have coursed through your mind. Thank you.”

She nods and returns to her seat, leaning over to squeeze Castiel’s hand.

Dean’s mother looks over at him, smiling through her teary eyes, “I think we have good things to look forward to.”

Before he can respond, Judge Robinson speaks up, “Thank you prosecution and defense. Jury, I ask that you convene in the conference room next door, and you must all agree on your decision before you bring it back. You will have as much time as you need. It’s all on you now.” she glances at Cas, and then back to them, “please choose carefully.” The courtroom begins to disperse.

“What’s next?” Dean asks his mom, slightly confused.

She sighs, “We wait.”

-

The waiting seems endless. Cas swivels around in the office chair. He picks at his coat. He avoids the food Bela had brought him ten minutes before. He does everything he can to avoid screaming. Minutes begin to melt into hours. The time blends together. Bela’s temporary office in the courthouse is cold and he misses Dean terribly. He just wants it all to be over. He’s pretty sure it’s five hours later, but it might be six, when Bela enters. Day has turned to night, and the moon replaces the sun with ferocity.

Bela pushes the door open, “They’ve made a decision!”

“Took them long enough!” he exclaims.

She snorts, “Boy this might’ve been the fastest jury I’ve ever had. C’mon we need to get down there!”

They bustle down the halls together, finally entering the courtroom. It’s full again, and the jury have begun filing back in. Judge Robinson seems on edge, and Ruby looks worse. Castiel’s father still looks unaffected and calm, but Cas knows he’s freaking out inside.

_C’mon Cas. Take a deep breath. Everything will be okay._

He welcomes the positive voice in his head, and sits down beside Bela. Glancing behind him, he spots Dean, who gives him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile. He smiles back, and Ms. Missouri squeezes his arm.

“Whatever happens baby, no matter the verdict, I’ll always be here for you.” she promises.

Mary nods in agreement, although John seems opposed as she says, “Me too Castiel. You can always come to me.”

Cas notices John’s pout, like he’s not used to being talked over. He smiles to himself, wondering if there’d been a regime change recently. Perhaps Mary had gotten sick of her husband being, quite frankly, a dick.

Judge Robinson turns to the head juror, “Please read your unanimous decision.”

The head juror rises to her feet, swallowing hard, “We find the defendant Jeremiah Novak guilty on the charges of embezzlement of church funding, sexual and physical abuse of a minor, and obstruction of justice.” she turns to Castiel, who’s staring slack-jawed, “We find the prosecution Castiel Novak innocent of all alleged charges, and released into freedom with his record wiped clean.”

Everything moves at once. Ruby begins shouting profanities at the jury, yet Pastor Novak remains expressionless and silent. Bobby, Mary and Dean are wooting excitedly. Ms. Missouri is crying, but she’s grinning like the cheshire cat. Bela looks smug and pleased. Castiel stays still, waiting for the catch.

He’s waiting for the head juror to scream, “ _Ha! Just kidding! Send that kid back to juvie_!” But that doesn’t happen. Someone’s pulling him to his feet, crushing him against their chest. It takes him a moment to register that he’s being hugged, not strangled. He looks up into Ms. Missouri’s teary eyes.

“You’re free!” she exclaims, grabbing his face in her hands and pressing kisses against his cheeks and forehead, “you’re free!”

“I’m...free. I’m free,” he laughs breathlessly as the reality hits him, “I’m free!” He whirls around and takes Bela’s face, planting a big slobbery kiss right on her mouth, “Thank you!”

She blinks, dizzy, “oh! You got it kid!” she pats his back as if to remind herself that he’s half her age, and grins, “you’re free to go!”

“Dean, where’s Dean?”

He spins, finding Dean in the crowd. The green-eyed boy is quickly weaving through people to get to him. Their chests collide and Cas doesn’t care that it knocks his breath away and probably breaks Dean’s spine. They hug, bodies molding together as Cas cries and Dean sniffles and laughs and buries his face in Cas’ hair. “I love you I love you!” Cas exclaims, kissing Dean’s face and wiping away his tears, “I love you so much!”

“I love you,” Dean leans down and mashes their lips together, not seeming to notice the mortified expression on his father’s face.

They kiss until Castiel’s chest aches from lack of air and his entire body feels weak and wobbly.

“I told you,” Dean whispers, “I told you you could trust me.”

Cas laughs, “Thank god I did.”

-

It’s Castiel’s last night at Kripke Detention, and Dean could not be more thrilled. Tomorrow morning Ms. Missouri is taking him to a really good foster home just a few miles outside of town. Dean’s mom has promised she’ll pick Castiel up every weekend and bring him with her to visitation days until Dean gets out. Dean will call every day and Cas will answer, he promises. He’ll continue seeing Ms. Missouri every other day for more therapy sessions, and the foster family is going to homeschool him. Dean hasn’t met them, but Cas seems to like them a lot. Not to mention, Castiel’s dad is going away for a long, long time.

“Well,” Jo says somewhat sadly, “It’s your last night sharing a cell with Dean.”

Cas smiles and kisses Dean’s cheek, “It’s not an ending, it’s a beginning. We will stop sharing a cell and start sharing a house in a few years.”

Dean’s cheeks blossom bright crimson, “Yes. Yes we will Cas.”

This time, he means it. Benny pats Cas on the back again, which looks to irritate him but they all ignore it. Kevin is nice, but slightly boring, and the rest of the night goes off without a hitch. They eat dinner, laughing and smiling and celebrating Castiel’s release.

“So,” Dean says as they’re walking back to their cell, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out?”

“Miss you,” Cas admits, smiling shyly. Dean chuckles, “Alright, the second thing?”

“Probably eat pizza and then cake and fall into a sugar coma on my first night in my new house.” he laughs, “They’ve got a little kid, but that’s it. She’s adorable, her name’s Anna and she might be the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met.”

“I’m so happy right now Cas,” Dean admits, “I’m so happy you’re getting what you deserve.”

Cas leans down and places a warm kiss to Dean’s mouth, “I’m gonna get a job, and save up for an apartment and then you and me are going to be together. I promise.”

“Good,” Dean says against Cas’ lips, “that’s going to help me through these upcoming months without you.”

“I’ll still be with you,” Cas promises, “I’ll see you every weekend and talk to you every day.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

They both turn with interest at the voice. Crowley is standing in the deserted corridor, hands behind his back, expression furious. Cas sighs, and turns to face him, “Crowley, listen-”

“No! You listen. Alastair was my only friend, and you killed him.”

“Crowley, I-”

“Shut up!” Crowley moves closer, eyes glinting with rage.

“What’s behind your back?” Dean asks him anxiously, pulling Cas so he’s a little further away. Crowley just moves with them, closing the distance.

Crowley grins, and slowly removes the pen, “The rec room has writing utensils, which is stupid. If you get someone just hard enough in just the right place, it can be fatal.”

“Crowley,” Cas tries again, “You don’t want to-”

“Yes I do Castiel. You took away my only friend.”

“Cas c’mon let’s go,” Dean pulls him back a little, “let’s get some help c’mon.”

But Cas isn’t done, “I know, I’m sorry Crowley. I can’t make up for that, but he was acting wild. He’d hurt my friend. You can’t blame me for-”

“Can’t blame you?!” Crowley shrieks, “you’re dead!” He lurches forward and grabs Cas’ neck before either boy can react. Rearing back, he screams and jabs the pen into Cas’ throat.

Dean can't hear a word over his loud shriek, “ _No!_ ”


	20. Flubber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg y'all were so sad about the last chapter I promise you'll be okay!!! <3 
> 
> Just want to say thank you to everyone who supported this fic and omg commented so much interesting and nice stuff! I really appreciate it aw 
> 
> As always, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

_In a place like this, you’ve gotta keep your poker face on. The shackles only get tighter and the cells only get smaller. The people only get tougher, and the fights get more deadly._

This was never really Dean's story. Or Castiel's even. It was their story. And like all stories, it could've had a different ending if the writer was different. Things could've changed, had Dean and Cas never met. Things would've been easier, maybe on both of them, maybe just on Dean. Nothing would be as it is today, and Dean wonders how such a small fraction of his life could still today affect him. 

Dean takes each step slowly, savoring the sights and smells that remind him of twenty years before. His loafers click on the deserted floor that once held so much life. He finds himself smiling, running his fingers through the short hair that runs along his scalp. He moves forward, eyes casting over the empty rooms and the sterile smell of cleaning supplies. The dilapidated words carved into the wall are missing a few letters, so they read “ _Kripk Detenon Hal_ ”

He chuckles at the sucky maintenance, or lack thereof. He continues, stepping into the abandoned recreation room. If he closes his eyes, he can still see Jo and Kevin lounging on the old sofa, watching Flubber. He can see Benny and Garth -through Mr. Fizzles- arguing over a card game. He sees Alastair and Crowley picking on some newbies, slapping them around like they own the place. He sees Bobby, who’s probably long gone by now, reprimanding two idiots for breaking something. He can see Ms. Missouri -who was once a _major_ part of his life but has since passed away- scolding someone for misusing her antiseptic.

His heart thuds unevenly in his chest as a plethora of unpleasant memories overwhelm him. Alastair beating the shit out of him. Cas nearly getting him off then abandoning him. Getting that awful 24 hour stomach bug that had him hunched over a puke-bucket for days. Not being able to see his family.

There are pleasant memories as well. The first snowfall that brought him and Cas to their ice first kiss. The snowball fights on Christmas. Comforting Jo and finally getting to see her leave juvie. Castiel’s father getting convicted. Dean finally getting out. Dean getting home and both of his parents telling him that if he’s gay, it’s fine. Although it seemed to strain on John’s nerves, he didn’t say anything about it, which Dean figures was progress on it’s own.

There’s something in the air here. It hangs over his head like a swinging chandelier. He can’t decipher what it is. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s...just different. Almost longing. Bitter Sweet and sorrowful, but with a tint of hope. He thinks that describes this place pretty well. It’s so strange to be back here. He feels so odd, standing in the midst of an empty building that once housed him for 18 months, some twenty years ago. How naive he’d been, how simple minded and idiotic. It seems strange to him now, looking back, that it was him. Dean is thirty six, when he was sixteen he thought juvie was his only reality. How silly it is now, that he could possibly think so closed-mindedly.

Suddenly, hands circle around his waist, “Looks good.”

He whirls around, smiling up, “Looks like shit.”

Brilliant azure eyes glisten, and a wide-smile laughs, “Looks a lot better than when I was almost murdered with a ballpoint pen.”

Dean grins, slapping at Cas playfully, “Get off me idiot.” but, he leans up and kisses the small scar that rests on the side of his neck, still slightly prominent even after twenty years of existence. Cas has a lot of scars, but this one is different. It's something they went through together. The agonizing hours of Dean lying awake, thinking about Cas in the hospital with only Ms. Missoury by his side. Those had been the worst days of his life.

“Really though,” Cas insists, “it will take some TLC, but the kids will love it.”

Dean chuckles, “Just don’t tell them their new daycare center location is in an abandoned juvenile detention hall.”

“Daddy!” Dean turns again at the impatient -very Cas-like- voice of their six year old. Brown eyes gleaming, blonde hair messy around her shoulders, she sprints at Dean.

“Hey kiddo! Been exploring?”

She grins, “Yep! I left Ben all by himself.”

“Emma!” the twelve year-old enters, face flushed with worry. Then, he sighs, “Guys, how am I supposed to watch her she’s always bouncing off the walls.”

Cas chuckles, ruffling his adopted son’s hair, “That’s just one of the things we like about her.”

Dean scoops Emma up and spins her around, “See this room here? Your daddy and I used to come here everyday.”

“Wow! Why’d you do that daddy?”

He sighs, “Well, before when this place wasn’t empty, it was a place for bad kids to come and change their ways. Now of course your dad and I are going to turn it into the daycare center for those kids we take care of, remember the ones we told you about?”

Emma nods thoughtfully, “The ones without families?”

“The ones who don’t have families just yet,” Cas corrects, leaning in to press a mushy kiss against her forehead, “but they will.”

“That’s right,” Dean agrees, “And what do we say?”

“If they can’t find a family, we’ll _become_ their family.” Ben cuts in, grinning proudly at his very precise verbatim recitation of their family’s mantra.

“Absolutely.” Ben turns slightly, examining the crumbling wallpaper and torn up floors, “It’s gonna need a lot of work before it’s suitable for the kids.”

“We’re not exactly opposed to hard work Benjamin,” Cas replies with a grin, “just getting you two was hard work. But it was worth it of course.”

Emma giggles, “Getting you was hard work too daddy!”

“Oh I know sweetie,” Cas pulls her from Dean’s arms and hugs her tight.

“Oooh! I’m gonna go look outside!” Emma wriggles out of her father’s arms and Benjamin sighs, following the child out to make sure she’s careful.

“Our kids are absolutely ridiculous,” Dean reminds Cas as they lean in for another kiss.

Cas smiles against his lips, “Yeah, but they’re ours.”

“Feels so weird, to be back here. I wish Missouri was still alive.”

Cas sighs, rubbing Dean’s back, “She’d shout at us for not saying hi to her first. Probably smack me upside the head and call me boy.”

Dean laughs loudly, pleasure breaking through the melancholy air in the room, “This is also where we met though.”

Cas grins salaciously, “First place we had sex.”

“Mm, first of many.”

Cas leans back a little, seriousness taking over, “You saved my life Dean Winchester.”

“You tell me this every day.”

“Just making sure you know.”

“Cas, you saved yourself. I just helped out a little. Besides, I think it was _you_ who saved me.”

“I beg to differ,” Cas takes Dean in his arms again and swings him in a circle, “we should watch Flubber.”

Dean snorts, “Our children are never going to see that movie, if I have any say.”

“You’re an amazing father.”

“And you’re too kind.”

“And you’re the best husband anyone could ever ask for.”

“And you’re...wow! You’re right! I’m fantastic.”

Laughing again, they close the distance and kiss once more. Dean inhales the scent of Castiel’s aftershave, relishing in the feeling of his hands at his waist and their mouths colliding.

“Your lips are the same as always,” Dean breathes, “unchanging, beautiful and addictive.”

“Just like you Newbie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol the major character death was Missouri. I'm a sneaky little shit but I love happy endings!!! <3


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